DICK III: ACT I, SCENE I

Now is the bubble of our discontent.
One summer in New York; glorious!
Clouds lower, and I’m near the ocean,
head deeply buried in her bosom.
Touching, steam circling like wreaths,
a monument to our “married” meetings.
Delightful marches,dreadfully measured.
Fear your foes!

**Apologies to the Bard

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

dVersepoets – Quadrille 3 (Thanks De!)

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