21

Hello All,

Here's a soul that pierce's your soul

An Irish rose

with a deep blouse

you pierced my soul

From a fake world that you choose

a Lucky Strike,

like there was a purpose

on the limelight, you turned twenty one

A heartburn, without a warning of a spouse

I fell apart, best than everyone

where all imperfections Fell into a death house

on the drama, you turned to twenty one

a seven in triple

such a shame

for such a gaze

                                        King H. Ironson

(Myrna Darby 1908-1929)