Phil Easy Welborn Poems

Pretty she is, eighteen to eighty,
This fool lays out his money for glow
Spoken words of endearment on my lips
Bouquet in their arms, always just for glow,
...

When would there to say,
The stirring starts again on that day.
I will launch thd campaign as of old
That of Alexander and Napoleon
...

You can smell the grinding in their
spirits,
See the upset in their eyes
Murmurs from the side of their mouths,
...