For most bloomer boomers, such placement, relucent in dayroom’s sun, elevated both content and aura of the art, but, for two, no angle or ray could ever match the glow felt in just having some time spent up-brushed rather than apart. ; )

Could a pool be a lairage

To doom blooms paired from corsage

Of sheepish, cowlicked collage,

Whose hurting heart did dislodge

Hope’s decor with a slight podge

Toward sipping Al-Mi’raj? ; )

What made her the GOAT [Grateful Ordinary Amiable Teetotaler] was that when she saw others heading down a slope of sots, she would abstain from heralding hatchetation and, instead, provide them faith’s facilitation—lots. ; )

When fear ever avoids any situation that could throw life off track,

It may be a win for a min, but soul’s vessel will continue to lack,

So solution to such siderodromophobia needs a new hack:

Brushing alongside imperfections—thus, firing will’s glazed-phase heart attack. ; )

“Well, the tree is tall and its carpet thick,”

“But I pref this fern and its pot to kick”

“Because if you try and are not too quick,”

“It may just happen that a foot will wrick”

“And, then, I will have passed the purrfect schtick”

“To have a wounded warrior to lick,”

“Which will endear each of us to your chick—”

“Who will serve us umami treats we pick!”. ; )