Rose Mallow

I.

He wrote carefully, the following:

" Faith draws from my face and it reads aloud <<your hair is in the winter>>
Truth is: whenever your hands supply
whether it be
out of luck
or with racy intentions:

I'll make sure to hug your bell, native blossom.

Rose Mallow forgive me if I ever screamed at you. "


II.

Truly thought of, my sky suggested.
I can swim in your pilgrimage, would not mind.

Rose Mallow, look at the witches, they dance around, coughing carbon:

"Sky's the limit" they sing



III.

" Oh no, she found ya! "


" Coco - "

I said to him

"- keep your flame burning."


I'm jumping off the tip of your pink ginger feet.
If you don't ask then I will never know.

"I'm set to worry."