And I wanna see your stocking, filled THIS big …! 

Some tomes tell those

tails that wag mischief-

like, and maybe

ringed with 

tinges that sing

of hopes and slopes, 

and dopes and

stuff you go and do

when under the

influences of kindly

unknowns, and 

their hidden and 

sought 

oughts and

shoulds, and

various coulds and

woulds of pasts

gone.

And unbeknownst,

and furiously watched,

and accepting – in 

love –

it doesn’t have 

to work, there’s 

no shame in

failing and even when

the hurt will cause 

all that shaming, the

love will remain –

in some curious strain

of virally viewed

existence, and then

that change: a better 

whirled

finally, is what we’ve

pursued: so now it’s

your turn to continue

the fight.

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