Do flowers reminisce about their time underground, in the shell of their seed?
Do treats reflect upon their story B.C. [before cookie], when they were just flour—not even ready to knead.
Will that macho noshing his matzo think about me when he goes to holy service?
Or, does my both sweet and sunny personality nudge him a different time to me-miss.
Whether ego-centric or geocentric, tales should be round—not flat.
For whether or not ackamarackus, bloomed truth is where it is at. ; )