Fourth of the seventh and where’s my present?

Fourth of the seventh, where’s my present? I’ve gone to ground, And wandered around. I’d thought that you’d reworded my sound.   I’ve sung to the trees, Shook off the leaves. Now can’t you tell me please?   I’m giving you presence, With undulating sentence. Auspiciously serendipitously pernicious. Those sounds Vulgate, That even gyrate. The […]