Not quite Contrary

Never quite what it seems
Only in for what it means
Ever fitting like one steams
If only there were the keens

Lacking news is often pleather
Like a feat of shady weather
If only there were parts to feather
When considering one's dance and leather

Focus on the light of dawn
Always see beyond the fawn
Only like those who notice the lawn
Shall ever catch one's wily pawn

Dodge the seeker of the fire
Bouncing wide while seeing sire
The focus on the house of dire
Leaves cards long swaying in the pyre

Asking fitting questions limit
Only to what is a gimmick
There profoundly is a league of bold
Boastful, bountiful, beauteous, and broken

See the leverage in the light, borrow lichens from the land, never to be caught when rolling long
If ever one to see, a black book that is stained.