Having slept for days in never ending shadows I hence before this night turns to rhymes to homor a girl of mine... The dumb things we men do for women. I am but weak.
To share in pain one would say Fitz
But I am the fool
Who joked for the dying king
A small matter
A simple errand for sure
One returns years later after time spent among traders waking Fitz
And points to the goal
Once again or perhaps for the first time
Who can say?
In the never ending darkness between night and day
I spoke
I talked the talk
{GEO & Time; [3,19] months, Beijing}
So be it.
