Mums who bums, this bowl you have set before me clearly presents no pâte

And I am not at all in the mood for such egregious state of diss play.

Walnuts, bah!-nuts—and if those other few in the compost-ition are ripe,

I underscore, regarding site of appetite bites to abhor, my gripe!

And, where is my saucer of milk to support shiny coat de calico?

Am I dreaming in another place or time? A mix-up in Mexico?

Listen, crackpot of crap lot, fur-purr will forgive you this most recent goof,

But you will drop this hell down a well and tear down any nearby shadoof.

Then, you shall carry me to field of mice or water body teemed with fish—

And you shall hunt and hook for me while I precisely pick the most delish.

I understand you are a ‘cat lady’ and, hence, your crazy is quite clear;

From now on, though, even if you mind, keep it down when dinner time is here. ; )

Ups a daisy’s petal,

Signaling its mettle.

Surviving curtilage

Means mower from garage,

Hugging fence for a chance

To beat weeder’s strike stance.

Buzz says lea is better,

But just kids could get her.

Bunny beasts, truth be told,

Clean their place of white’s gold.

Fauna frolics, it haps,

Oft occur with stem snaps.

So, resigned to its space,

Bloom dreams, but lives in grace. ; )

Crunch, crunch snow.

Lamps light-glow.

Eve wintry.

Stars glinty.

Hark! Soft chime.

From ghost’s dime?

Like zills. Kay?

Tink’s bells sleigh!

Flakes romance.

Shadows dance.

Lambent path.

Spirit bath.

Corner black.

Could turn back.

Orange brush.

Home? No rush.

Coat’s white stuff.

Fractal fluff.

Gelid chalk.

Frosty walk.

Crackle ice.

Hues feel nice.

Pitched just bright.

Live, full, night. ; )

Alice was musing in the museum when happened an occurrence so baffling

As she was shrunk—along with stag-statues—to a state that left her maffling.

“Oh-oh, d-deer! What h-have we h-here?!” stumbled her inquiring exclamation.

Anticipating her fright, in unison, the circled mates chimed, “Fret not. This is just pre-celebration organization.”

And, then, she was told the actual story of old regarding how Nick could know which souls were decent and which were of the dastardly pack.

Who knew that such correspondences were happening not only twixt domiciles, but between each inherently inert knick-knack?

Of course, it made perfect sense that a wondrous world could be active in both a dream and its encompassing milieu.

Though, she would have preferred to remain full-sized if it meant she could escape the burden of labelling an attribution onto each who.

They must have been telepaths, for sure, as she next heard, “We just need some help checking the list if you do not too much mind.”

“We would do it ourselves, but inked antlers all too oft mark unintended boxes. A couple hours, please, and you may return to your kind.”

So, she rode and she wrote as the—who knew?— now caroling caribou calculated chari-Chris-matics of characters—until it was finally time to bid bye-byes.

*Blink-blink* Before’s same painting and same seat. Fawns back to brawns. Pulling hand from right pocket, alas, a reasonable-seasonable cheer—a miniature reindeer—alive to not-so-much-anymore a surprise. ; )

Miss, directions:

Orvietan orally

For

International illnesses

Of

Pointed poisonings

Or

Beachy bites

From

Seaside stingers.

Sincerely,

Onerous orientations

By

Sham-my’s sleaze shells. ; )