Belted around robust hips, hangs a wreath of roses.
The dragon of strength coiled atop a bed of daisies, whilst blowing dandelion
As three lights shine down, the thief steals five swords; yet, plants two more in the ground. Grinning all the live long day.
He is getting away with something.
Beyond five modest hutts, a small plot of roses abides behind a plate of pitted fruits.
Afar, the Tower lies in repose, reversed. The sea sits skyward and lightning aries there-toward.
Yet, lightning originates from the ground, even when appearance suggests otherwise.
Regardless, it crumbles: skyward or earthward?
Depends on who is looking.
Pitted, stone fruits and mouths dripping in red serum.