Perched like an ancient queen,

Purview which ave has seen:

Oceans blue to leas green,

Bills filled to ills thraneen,

Offspring: sprung, teen, and wean.

Now, fancied flights need a preen—

For aged birds on histories lean,

Gleaning mems—both tears and gleen. ; )

I betta you could not guess that it is not so fishy to presume that a micro-pod of Macropodusinae—be that as it may—do, indeed, have for display *magnificence* directly correlated to the magnitude of their attitude—not unlike how terrestrial kin of macropod skin feel that fealty for feet is not their only feature you are supposed to find impossibly impressive. ; )

She shared the solution of seeing the self as a scandent surfer—ever ascending the crest, never allowing the crash. ; )

Some of bed’s blankets comfort best as tautly pressed—whilst throws with nullahs provide tactile by-lullas. ; )

Within a sea of stars.

Amidst a quiver of trees.

Cricket.

*chirp*

*chirp*

*chirp*

The most nugatory name of the night.

For whom?

Surely, not for the weary.

Surely, not for the trembling.

Surely, not for the lone.

*chirp*

*chirp*

*chirp* ; )