SteampunXXX

Whiling, whirling wheels and weather,
flecks of copper, bronze, and tin,
layered lace and threads of leather,
where to start and where begin?

Timely pieces, pointed badness,
techno boot and straddled sadness,
make the look that saddles gladness,
here the gear that spins in madness.

How then this, My Tasty Treat,
flourished heart-lot tempered neat,
with every angle in repose,
every sector all disclosed?

When the daguerreotype is done
with poised fixation, and sepia gun,
when all have had their praise and won,
I'll lock my target, striped and spun.

Stripped of all she wore to swear
she had been a member there,
and laid at last on feather's fate
a concubine, Rube Goldberg's trait.

runningturtle87