O rain! I'd plans lo, in the werks--t'avail Me of the naked woods in tour fr'intents Of violets. That is lost as I mull thence The joys of sitting on the stoop's detail Jist to, erm, breathe. And lo, in sheer betrayl To write THAT kills the chance as twere, as hence Those priceless minutes are most strangely whence I canna say, lost--more in tow--sans bail. Yes. It is freaky. Why'd my earring, fer All that, fly off?! Just where I'd rush out to That spot and settle me to breathe in tour, Lo, how I spent it praying, and searching too. Rain slipped off on the wings of gloaming, poor As all MY dreams. And I was laughing. You?
24Mar19c
As panda bear loved to say, "It's a secret!" Or, that's what befalls idiots who stay up after hours? P.S. a continuation of the previous stanza.