Saved

Sensing through the soul
coldness of the valley
swimming in the cascade
out from peremptory

wrapped by forsythia's whiffs
feeling so intrepid
safe from being ticklish
never cringed in bleed

weak caused by temerity
explicated by sign
wilted for those blunders
out from peril by one sublime

stupor to elicited abrasion
rustle made a little perturbed
raucous voice seemed no a peal
tired slanted in the perch aboard

no more a wayward scion
be leaving with full acquiesce
if I was gone to final life
no chance for better, forever amiss