A walk with a stern brisk
A might that outbeats the king
A whole tavern seemed less than a snowglobe
For the run is what makes their name a pairee more
Blazing eyes wih a slit in the fire
A jaw that opens up all doors of fear
A tint of pink manifies a thousand kilometers so near
A swoosh,a sway, a land of bruises make their wish
A shrubs length deer
One lucky soul becomes today’s veal
But a lashes dim.. they whorl faster than the wind
All wearies might be given a worn out miss
But the spotted white of Italy
Holds an ultimate Esteemed Bliss.
