Golden tower over-watches its kinder.

Company may be brusque, but they return often enough.

So often so that megalith can regularly recount megillahs regarding ruckuses.

Proudly participating in parish pumpery, the world beyond the fog merits no extension.

A witling in the morning. A worker in the afternoon. A washer in the evening. Each a welcomed wonder to awe’s point of view.

Some children relay thanks for the support and some do not, but parent remains resolute—superly caped in rusty red. ; )