a study toward sonnet #1,381 by FisherKingKQJ
That space which I home claim, that countryside,
Industrial forest matured, our saw mill
I'll never cede, as it's home sweet home still,
To Riverhead my brain is ravine wide.
On planet Earth there's no safe place to hide,
So plastic laminate chipboard doesn't chill
I laud the innovation, labour, skill,
Airconditioning calms, wheels hiss and glide.
My girl has taken turn at snatching sleep,
Across the back of that hinged bucket seat,
Her safety belt awaits boobs, cleavage deep,
We'll swap our places come next sight of sheep,
Tarseal molten, punctilious white pickets,
We love boughs sunblotted, ditch gorse thickets.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 picket
o $10,000,000 baluster
o $10,000,000 stake
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
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