“Night-night, Welt.”

“Sniffles dealt.”

“So, oh, welp.”

“Tea in delft.”

“Stay, night light.”

“But, not too bright.”

“Just safe for sleep.”

“And, life to keep.”

“I wish for care.”

“Oh, and Big Bear.”

“Boo, turning sick.”

“Hope better quick.” ; )

Then, I used to spend sunny days sharing sips from a jeroboam, but whilst it had escaped a cellar, I was stepping into my own cave of cognitive caskets.

Now, an arvo’s escape requires only the glasses in panes and the oaks in frames, especially when they open towards a more hopeful view—a space life-lit, not sad-sat. ; )

Mare is in despair—

For today’s rein is plain,

Not the one both purpled and purfled—

The one that is fancied a lot,

The one that turns hot to trot. ; )

Whether weather outside is as frightful as feelings inside still wavers for the moment, but, certainly, heart, intenerate by warmthful wheel of Ferris a la Paris, will not let gelid stings freeze its fortitude. ; )

Panes patrocinate dawn’s glow. Or, do panels reflect dusk’s show? ; )