She sat on favourite bench for turns of pages of laughter’s noon,

Titillated by tale of maiden rescued by her picaroon.

Who fancies these fantasies? inwardly outburst her thought balloon.

For sure, I would never fall for such lunacy of love by loon.

Then, out of autumned park, sat beside her a Kelly none too soon,

Whose queries about her book were relayed not by voice, but by croon,

Followed by breezy battle of eyes and air tipping a tap tune,

Sweeping gal away for dance play, leaving behind good-grief’s rain spoon. ; )

Persian cat on Persian mat,

Where mailshot will drop a lot

Of ad news rousing mad mews,

If not a bed, time to shred! ; )

Masked super-horse-o—not of Zorro—

Left his cape, lo, with sidekick burro,

But still speed-treats track this Halloween

And smites flies’ bites’ tries at tricking screen.

What, though, if their ghosts return to bug

Next race for horsey sans its back rug?

Phasmophobia could be the wall

Twixt Thoroughbred and winning it all.

Here, sensing spirits of past equines

Boosts hero’s nose first past finish lines—

For even with outfit incomplete,

Winner busts boos with moves that compete. ; )

Disco’s ball vellicates Frisco wall,

Dotted lights up-tickle lotted heights,

Lambent loft glow-shows from speckles soft,

Sparkling space basks via fulgent face. ; )

Paddlers prevised park pond’s pared population, presenting picturesque placidity per proposer’s preferred pair-permanenting parameters. ; )