there are better days to come, songs to sing and hymns to hum

tales to tell, fables with tables, horses and stables

things to fix, and amends to affix with post-it gladness or toaster madness

funny little times to tiddle and tawny little boats to whittle, maybe even skittles

pop rocks popping with little red socks plopping down around the campfire, maybe even strumming wires

guitars create the melody with drums and the accompaniment of a lovely soprano named panelope

surely there are no better times than those; between the rhymes, stories, and flurries of snow;

following the carolling carollers of long ago


your hair is truly a loving affair, swirling and twirling around the sparkling circlet you wear

thinking of sinking into the past, a blast of the new washes the glue and leaves an empty space out of place

maybe the dilly dally was more of a tally tale or a sail for me, maybe we should stick with the scones and the tea

upon the rolling hills was a thrilling ride and suprisingly we survived, to find the blind leading the blind

what a sign of things to come, please just let me strum and hum my tune it will all be over soon

ta ta









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