Above Suspicion

This touches on a nightly wonder composed in Spenserian sonnet.

there consistently basking in spots,
where many mysteries mounts and abides,
still sits a figurine casting its lot
off of his high horse towards countless lives.
A come-of-age countenance is disguised
by a distant gaze in round about ways,
although only baring the pronounced side
that isn't fazed even when out of phase.
"Please don't disengage your tantamount sway,
for your four quarters fills the bill o'er time
midst brisk weekdays where we foundlings parlay,
or hearts will stand still and coldly flatline."
As the ejects its uncanny plumes,
maria flesh out this in the .