Mr Pike
By chilling winds from over the mountains,
We brought out the needle box and old curtains
A cover up of the red and white of tonight,
Blistering cold rivers decide to say goodnight.
A contrast to the man who felt soporifically
Unlike morning birds that chirp melodically,
After fermented reds, some handcrafted serums
Bolted to the white upon the permissions of the hums.