Where workfellows are raised, working silos will rise.

But, then, when sky pillows are razed, civility will guise.

And, so, kind men must not be fazed by visions of passed eyes. ; )

Some kindred buds remain closed—

Not due to selfish intent.

Could these shells be wondering

Which way day’s rays may have went?

Perhaps, their joy is teeming

Where each sepal needs a fent—

So that bloomers may dress up

A splendoured style to present. ; )

“Doge on it, mom! I do not want to smile! I am a mean inu—bad to the bone! I would not smile for you if you proffered me a bulse of gold-flaked, peanut-butter-filled bacon bites! I willz fights!”

“Raaah-rooo—your fingers feelz nice. Aaalrights.” ; )

Train’s arrival was set for clock of five,

But as so late, kit is to its next life.

Scream at six means hat lady is no show,

So pats and snacks are, as well, a no go.

Scramasax to head is felt by kit’s cry;

Conductor is needed if one is nigh.

Even hair-bunned gents would pass as a friend—

If they shared sushi for screaming to end.

Cats like not to ever wait for their care,

So train for on time—or not…if you dare. ; )

For those who carry in their heart a wilted wellness due to orbity,

Just an ephemeral bloom in the periphery

Can bright a memory via serendipity. ; )