16.January.25

Once upon a sill sans tree,

Sat a cat critically;

While novercal in its stare,

Left milieu as few as bare.

Who could soften hardened heart

Of kit with end to each start?

That witch who swapped west for best

May just wand detest to zest. ; )

17.January.25

There—he watched her crossing with finest head askew.

“Was that glance intended for me?” He was sure such a looker would only play for a Manhattanite—one for whom the stats always benefitted. In fact, he would likely hold a double major, with the other being in chrematistics.

If the north pole was money, then the south was class—

Meaning a personality fragile as glass

Had no chance connecting with such a supreme lass.

But, then, the weather is known to change on a dime from time to time and, as it out-turned, this scene was set for his mantle—a snow globe that shook the system precisely enough to have the look to the left be just right for they guy labelled shy, who, even if it was not the final ‘at last’, presented enough coolness to earn a ‘hi’ rather than the expected from a posh passer-bye. ; )

14.January.25

With just a remaining pottle of mettle,

Under giving tree’s sanctuary,

Her vigor chose to settle.

Behind fortress’s island isolated,

Untethered from day’s obligations,

Illumination waited.

Escape ticked neither destination nor dream—

Just moments in breaths of existence—

Til time or what it may seem. ; )

13.January.25

Margie loved playing cat and mouse with winter’s wily fauna, especially when she could catch them off their guard, and even though drive parked no tan Sierra, neighbour’s felt like they were regularly rewatching *that* scene—the feline-‘Fargo’ version—via movieoke as curious cop prepared to pounce on her rapscallion rat. ; )