Xemi

A diagnosis only half true, I can smell the Limes, on a tree-lined avenue, you act like you know, in the ties that bind, breathe deep on your bones, hope holds you aloof, to see if they’re right, accept there's little due, you won't be alone, in this cosy light, the house is of stone, you sit near the flue, it's not a crime, to let a fire warm you, you have to keep going, each steepled night, when the kid's phone, am I Ok asking why?