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Sep 2018
Nope!, this aint a
     (non) commercial
     Christmas plug for ye,
nonetheless, a greeting
     of joie de
     vivre buttressed with
     (wreath) in this ole
     foreign nicked saint wannabe

awash with spiritual
     awakening unexpectedly
     alighting boosting, and catapulting,
     the mood of this
     dog gone intro
     spective atheistic he
then for merely "actively listening,"
     sans texting to me,

(thine youngest daughter) hook
     confided a circumstance,
     that found her teary
eyed, whereat papa (meself)
     galvanizing enervating,
     and bold facing
     (italicized optional),
     a decades long glee

(son) doting dada, (me)
hood did earlier today
      underwent spiritual reawakening
     experience, where poignant see
movie ling ushered
     emotional concessions prithee
lee transcending, and super see
ding ordinary **-hum

     (oh so yesterday...)
psychologically (or psychically)
     escalating euphoria juiced being
     a humble papa
     yes sir re:
vicariously afflicted when,
     Shana Aubrey (said
     nineteen year old pro genie),

(who lives under
     auspices of mine
     kid sister in
     Bend, Oregon – Voluntarily)
painfully shared her recent
     (first) beaming, blooming,
     and budding romance
     rendered null and void

primarily duet who wah
     bajillion geographical miles
from Colchester, Great
     Britain, where she
(mine offspring) under
     parental care of thee

guardian (angels) Shari Todd,
and George Andrew Dunning
     supreme qual lit tee
aunt and uncle respective lee)
spent propitious year,
     whence har mo' knee
me lass struck up,
     and young lad o' a louver she

discovered without visa vis,
where, the young chap Zak)
     broke off (figuratively smote) long
     distance elle la gee.

Gnome hatter at my helpless state
hive hilt that being privy at any rate
which parental aye deed eek quate
with darling daughter as a mature primate.
Written by
matthew scott harris  64/M/schwenksville, penna
(64/M/schwenksville, penna)   
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