Let's see...rain draws up silver puddles' tale Of being upon the blacktop, where suspense Is fast asleep cuz Sunday augured thence Mair calm than it could e'er endure, the pale Eye of uncertain hours with half a frail Thought dawn played hooky for all that, a sense None can e'en yawn worn out as sheer pretense Was quite arraigned in morn's half light: sans bail. I roll words 'cross my tongue at lunch as twere, And sparrows take the chance to gaily cue Fond smiles til conversation rules in tour. Now's time to put on rice to boil anew, Warm refried beans for dinner, lo, bestir Me fin'lly to jot down a note...where to?
24Mar19a
Sunday, ah....if you had any questions, please refer them to the front desk whose secretary is allus absent by definition.