Snaps in poetry corner

Ink a horoscope inside my wrist to
Advise me, remind me, perscribe me the astral counsel to
Trust.
Here's hoping my veins absorb the message
While my feet tread and trod and traipse and
Twirl.
Size six kicks up sticks and dust that must mean a path is being made and laid and obeyed.
And you couldn't promise
And you were too honest
And you weren't modest
And you all inked a horoscope in me as a gift for me to sift and lift after I set you
Adrift.




Snaps if you feel it!