Mint Monk

For me, only? I remember our pilgrimage fondly Our starry Spring sabbatical With the swayful white lady and her leather hugs Evermore we knew for every silent home sauntered by

Only best friends can impart such generosity, wordlessly A piece of fatherhood, mutually

First-hand American grace, originally elegant

Artifactual sage of pure indulgences, lost Neverboring partner in a time-traveling bubble of (sometimes contentious) rhetoric but inevitably adored by onlooking admirers Easy-over the highways under ancient sky Our chance to ask divine questions and count upon sureful answers