I am not one to compare,
To a mid summer's moist most pungent air
For I endure in the cold and lust in the mold
That can only be described as despair.
Though I smile and I gloat it is mine to evoke
Upon the ripest of due men--I declare.
--Something I came up with.. I love riddles and poems. Riddle with me sometime~ We can speak in riddles~
Can you tell me what this poem means to you or perhaps what it may say about me?