Words with a Friend

Oh peony, haunt me.

I bid adieu to the toy

that zed kept in its wat.

What harms, sags,

but what name does lace our volt?

Vex the font and cue the wools

for the thane of tripe.

This roe was found

on a lone nerd,

in a site that will theek noir

into my bike.

The jins vet the river ford,

hold ritual in the bagh of our mesa

to call upon

Di’Al.