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? ; )

This morning, caterpillar cathemeral departed pale petals for lunchy leaves, but will return when eve’s early ease allows blossomed butterfly to alight on setting sun’s sight—a nectar-ine chalice for an anytime proboscis. ; )

Eve’s heart lies in a pool of reflective steps and cooling cogitations—with soul as scintillator in-tucking day’s most illuminative points for ready recall when eyes bright shut. ; )