Cheeky Missy

Beef Hot Dawgs at Midnight....oh!

I guess. Enjoy?

It\'s Called Word Doodles, I Guess

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXI)

How can it be, and wherefore sans aught bail,

Just little me? None other\'d \'bide fr\'intents

And freeze, nor could I warm til, in defense

A very hot showr ransomed me t\'avail,

Chilled to the core as if twas that detail

Deemed perfect, eh? I\'m not e\'en skinny, whence

Oh, what explains the tale, where for mere cents

I froze to death for twenty hours, too frail.

Tis known that pregnant women have as twere

Odd app\'tite urges at strange times--is\'t true

Thet only pregnant women do? Is\'t poor

That freezing for eight hours, I ate all through

My lunch and starved? Nigh midnight, I\'d bestir

Lo, hot dawgs by desire. Twas too good too.

07Jan25a

(If I\'d thought a full departure from the pink standard was underway, it was only Tuesday.)

Where Are We Headed Now?

(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMLXXII)

Behold, last year now I wore pink, a sense

Of what, within that theme pursued t\'avail

Since when? \"On Wednesdays We Wear Pink\'d\" detail

A tank top in the thrift store with fr\'intents

The movie title \"Mean Girls,\" whilst I thence

Saw means to don what Mum told me in frail

Excuse too many decades \'go, like bail:

\"Your colour\'s pink.\" Worn since like sheer defense.

Yet oh, this morning, after Christmas\' tour,

I begged t\'avoid both red and pink, t\'eschew

That cuz I could not bear what, eh, as twere?

Dunno. But deep maroon is perfect, to

Be certain. What has changed? I have?! Demur

What I\'d embraced for years? LORD, I need You.

07Jan25b