In a speech to the service society.
A mouth of spire, teething: comely sounds.
Renovating a listless, brooding mood.

An agile population leaps in approval.
Swelling in their thin-limbed grace.

Solvent words depending
themselves to breezy chance.

His tongue had a healthier paint.
Had a reservoir of elegies to warm any portion.

An annum of notes moldered in their boxes.