There's something that I can't do by myself
even half so well as it goes with you
so inclined to participate, fully in
and keen to begin and go on
by turns in a light and summery
springy wood as the screw
turns descendingly down
through grain, I'm biased
I know. But all such cares
as are taken together
redeem all pains. It's
conversation, I mean.
So what
might you else
have thought or intended,
there? From such inference
we imply what we read
between every line
ever done indeed.
Which is natural,
but quite off the point.
Let us talk this out
until noses aglow
back in perfect joint
we have come to know
has always awaited us
here. Oint Oint
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