And he did not walk
the hallways of youthful fortresses.
He strode.
Victoriously, with vigor, and without shoes.
For, to be silently scribbling, and upon you
with shocking quickness is this
dragon eyed boy, who unleashes his
cry of mirth before even the slammed doors
clunk against the cinderblock walls.
He was a bard of precocious ability, although surreal.
Tales of adventure with the offspring of mystical gypsies
questing along the coasts of foreign lands, among many others,
spiced with explosions of eastern-european dialect.
Never before and never more shall any man known a fellow
of such berserk geniality.
good poem
i like it a lot
i like it even more now...
i like it even more now... hehe