Another Space and Rhyme

Take me to a different place in time.

Let me make another space and rhyme.

They shine,

at nine,

so fine,

those stones from the beach, not mine.

Summer wine,

hen wants.

Balthazar, my winter child.

Cold and blind.

Immobile.

Sessile like some cnidarian.

But, alive.

Like me.

Anyway.

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