A cloister to the savior of effusive polished stockings
Iris the acquiescent,
A contemplative sore
I'm proceeding so contritely
Rhododendrons through the flax
An empty sheen
Taffeta's lean
Mauve the vengeance to delight me
I swear myself, up on a whim
Tide a bow
I, those seven etchings, so flowery, disgraced
A dresser's claim,
Conventional blame
Patriarch a jade