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Fran --

Just a try. 

Cheers --
Sara

I cannot give the reasons,
I only sing the tunes:
the sadness of the seasons
the madness of the moons.

I cannot be didactic
or lucid, but I can
be quite obscure and practic-
ally marzipan.

In gorgery and gushness
and all that's squishified,
My voice has all the lushness
of what I can't abide

And yet it has a beauty
most proud and terrible
denied to those whose duty
is to be cerebral.

It rises through the rocks,
it thunders, echoes loud
within deaf mental locks,
just noticed by a cloud.