Oh, Roo, please do not let some miff-sniffs turn your feelings down;

Under the weather merits no more than a fleeting frown.

No Rudolph for your snout! And, one-eighty that cursed, pursed pout!

Show those bluenoses how southies hop right back on the trail.

Whose fuck is for a Canuck? Kangas ever out-kick fail! ; )

Valentines may dream of warmed hearts in Paris,

Where gentleman hold promise on bended knee.

Though, forget not lorette’s love story of ice—

Selling to survive for a soul-crushing price.

Hence, whether one is of pair or holding door,

Not all melt is fine-felt regarding amour. ; )

Soars almost a swarm,

Yet uniquely calm,

Strike at unknown points

As awe becomes dwalm.

Chaotic order

Thus reflects in mind:

Paths just may be right

That one cannot find. ; )

When I was but a bantling, I would pooh-pooh that yellow bear whenever he proceed to, “Think, think, think.”

Now that I use my senses for battling for better, cogitations sweeter than honey do link-link-link. ; )

London’s sky

Begins to cry,

So, to the side,

Veers the ride.

While onions peel,

Hands hold wheel

And eyes trace tears’

Zigging steers.

Mind, then, wishes

For sweet dishes

With waiting peeps

By cozy keeps,

Sharing warm slices

Of biffin’s entices

As company nigh

Apples each eye. ; )