‘Twas a bit fishy that for Santa’s eats

Were placed anchovies instead of baked sweets.

Christmas, though, cheers even the salty coast,

So Nick rewarded his thoughtfulest host,

Pulling from his dorlach an apt prezzie—

A piscine peace scene hooked just for their tree. ; )

Desire to change

May not easily take root

And, as well, repastination

Might not ever over-turn new leaves,

But attempts and tries,

Never fearing reaches for the skies,

Merit commendations by constellations—

Colouring a character not of black

And not of white,

But, most certainly, of inspiring light. ; )

Captured kitty—not from city—intent to lam,

Focused just like they do on a stereogram.

If only she could collimate the bars just right,

Her fur-frame could squeeze through—even if a bit tight.

Then, new mew would be free to again, around roam

On other side of fairless fence—her happy home. ; )

To any passerby, Claire appeared to be chilling to favourite tunes, but, indeed, her relax tracks were just white noise—though, that selections of chubasco were the ones she set on repeat may suggest her preference was, instead, for grey grunge. ; )

Pupper’s eyes and muzzle, both dilated with delight, relayed the dared dream: a game of catch beyond an afternoon of affinity, past a play of perennity, but, indeed, for an epic epoch of infinity. ; )