Holding warmth between the chair
And thy brazing sit which shelters one from experience
Keeping thy grasp among the stability;
As that of the very limber frame

The same origin from which the limber sprung
The nostalgia urges and peeks through
Through the navy sky; a hue of orange
Casting rays upon the eyes and rech too

Looking to the corners that sting your button
To only direct thy peer more and more,
On what hue seems so a distant clue
As to which the runnest to catch up to

Although, thy livest among possibility,
‘tis you choose to warm a reed or two
Desire to be beneath those rays of memories
And away from the new navy blue

For your passionate glisten, reflecting such sepia,
It mirrors the pink-dyeing, lip-parting happiness.
For I too could wish to see directly into that hue
But be it I know nothing but thy reflection, ‘tis missed

Great familiarity bringest to you, thy hue horizon
And I, the unknown reflection of such arising cue.