Love.

There does    
Exist god  
But angel and my Riverdale.
He is my shade of plum
My shoulder and shelter
He gives his love to
Poor
And i envy of his gimme
He grows on
His own Grass and
Gibbles
He ate the apple picking pie and
Charts the night green tree perfumes
When night occurs
He is the batman
To fly wind of blue and red moon
He drapes wind into
Winter nights and
Rainy days.