Scribble, scribble. Write, write. Prose, prose. Rhyme, rhyme. Will I finish before midnight time?
If shared thoughts are dismissed, at grinch’s misology will disfavour be hissed.
Perhaps, that which is penciled is, indeed, nondescript nonsense for most to read.
But, phubbing the world to limn the mind, lifts *me*–the best why to th-ink I can find. ; )