Shall I write another poem?
That isn’t so long
With spoonfuls of tulips
and cardinal song

Of gilded teacups
of golden rose
nestled by wildflower
honey and clover

with vivid dreams playing
that I should live over

asexual, plural,
for short, it’s a puzzle
that all lost girls
drunken, in the rain
can moan and mumble
and demotively muzzle

Give me boons
and mitigations
kittens playing with balls
whilst here, by this bnb
I bate breath for your fall

Dear girl, please don’t drive
it’s fine, she can’t find her car
and I’m pretty sure, atm,
she’s on 2 or 3 calls
But her name is Elle
and she seems like 15,
which might be patronizing
from an old woman like me.