The Boulder Poem by Ander Greigon
The Boulder
A thing to remember
On solemnly weather,
Sir, lost is not candid
Would foster and withered;
Fine kins and the shoulder
Ride sighs and the shiver,
Not fuel were riots
Oust foughts really deceives;
Still bees would devour
String moves and a sour,
Resist on the insert
Wrong tease and rivert;
Dries and all coundred
Kind and assorted,
Mind would be silver
If sails were not counter.
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7/27/2025 12:06:11 PM # 1.0.0
