Lynn is fed up,
no longer engaging.
The fire in her cup,
is growing and raging.
We all have our twin air,
but we can see yours.
The psychic link that you share,
is out from behind the doors.
There is much more to what we realize,
than what we see with our vision spree.
With our other set of emotional eyes,
there is a twin for us all to a diminished degree.
An eclectic set of senses she has to come by or made,
a big family tree with her very strong branches.
She serves more than food and provides more than shade,
this branch has become a tree that is known everywhere as Sanchez.
dead beat poet 