Frill

The longest drill in the frill all over
The air amongst the hairs
Though cool but yet as warm as the sparks
Goes off as soon as it comes

Seems unlikely freshness touching the fragrance
Though a small feint of the grit owns the grip
Looking the trip over the fumes and perfume
The full lines strength of the welcome

Played to the tunes lost in the moments
The moments which were for the lost
Found and lost or lost and found was just game
Engulfing were just the touch of the gust

Lines touching the shores, but the waves ingesting it all up
The waver couldn’t wash off the fumes of the grins
But fumes was flamed and blamed for the grace
Saw it was just a glare above the rule and prowl

Profusion lost in the own intrusion of the crippling inertia
Nor even did it jumped over the assigned peak
The fumbling feet were always far as if ordered
The hastening seems to have lost affection on name of acquaintance