Amidst a day long past to say a house did stand of old. Not old of cold or old of bold but old of a miner’s coal. Hammer and nail did flail and sail across a day be told. The brown skin stood amidst its hood the secret of buildings play.
For hand in hand did love a vision, a reason for subtle stay. Boom and crack and saw and tack to go about its way. What built did stand for every man his wondrous plate in play. A secret land behind this fan of life’s due purposed day.
One angle met does not surmet the garden’s secret way. For behind the scenes lies another means of love due harvest may. Hands and fingers do the mingle with creationary gay. The rut comes up from under schucked to provide for years from clay.
Glass ajar with lids go far for satiety be sake. The churning cauldron full in autumn has preperatory say. The woman’s hands bring life from sand to provide for days away. A way to share from a heart’s due ware spoons do guide the way.
The patch, the thicket, the garden, the picket sits amidst a secret day. Two hearts are bonded created they laundered the gifts from havest’s ways. Behind the home lies another known forgotten due its say. The man, the woman, the way begotten lies behind the window’s bay.
