Twixt roughest of romanced seas

And shoreline sanctuaries,

Love’s story sails waters’ tests—

Where patache of compassion

Returns vessels toward course:

Stars north of hope’s horizon. ; )

Indeed, they were bird-brained—but, that did not provide excuse to those who pigeonholed them as bullionists. Sure, many of their cousins ever held fascinations towards radiantly reflective rounds. They, though, like love doves, assigned amore to the nonmaterialistic: warmer weather amid splash sounds. ; )

Only a season ago, penned denizens would rise to the same sight that wakes current eyes, but, now, in their stead, lies a field of ice—gracing rather than grazing the dead. As their shepherd—filled with brew and fed by flitch—stands warmthfully welcomed to the day, pointed pang pulls memories, leading to lonesome’s profound-yet-fleeting wish: one more squeal in lieu of morning’s meal. ; )

Alas, kitty has, via missed steps, slipped

And, now, sees fate’s date meant to have her gypped—

For fother of felinest feast was tipped,

But, out of reach, remains still uncatnipped. ; )

Cetacean’s crimination was a fluke—the real killer whaled oceans apart from this merry tail. ; )