Then there are mice that will talk to the cat,
Some squirrels that don't fear the dogs.
Some of those turtles prefer the rocks and will avoid those moss covered logs.
My memory serves me scraps of thoughts,
Severed fragments of fictitious moments.
None of which offer blessings or spiritual atonements.
"I don't know what to say," said the cardinal.
His blood soaked feathers drank the light.
"There's really not much to say my friend.
Though could you sit with me till night."
The wolves and the ravens have a good thing going.
Along with the spiders and rivers.
So what does the frost say to the flower before it wilts and withers?
Dec 29, 2025
Dec 29, 2025 at 3:37 PM UTC
Then there are mice that will talk to the cat,
Some squirrels that don't fear the dogs.
Some of those turtles prefer the rocks and will avoid those moss covered logs.
My memory serves me scraps of thoughts,
Severed fragments of fictitious moments.
None of which offer blessings or spiritual atonements.
"I don't know what to say," said the cardinal.
His blood soaked feathers drank the light.
"There's really not much to say my friend.
Though could you sit with me till night."
The wolves and the ravens have a good thing going.
Along with the spiders and rivers.
So what does the frost say to the flower before it wilts and withers?