SOBER

Some says it wears frown; all round

Of which I say no. It has smiles, profound

Which is left for few, frown never counts.

It neither wears taciturn glove, that's not a prove;

But carries along playfully, not inclined to cruise

'Cause thy stands are by thine rules.

Like the sun, while it permeates,

Into the skin of the race over which it radiates

Its protective wings of rays; though, may exterminate.

In this enclosure, I meditate; every now and then with tense

To conjugate and thoughts to propagate whence

The calmness at this stance.

Kenewrites