Cheeky Missy
Lattes and Faux Fur
But I say, the cat had nine lives.
...And Curiosity Killed the Cat Folk Say
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCDLII)
Fun\'s where you find it: at dawn whilst pink\'s sense
Of romance mingles with soft mists\' detail
And lingers in the distance on aught, hale
In beauty, where calm simply waits, suspense
What leaves me antsy, sliding craz\'ly thence
Within my seat cuz: why not, eh? Avail
Me of this minute whilst I\'ve chance t\'inhale,
To breathe, and watch dawn now unfold fr\'intents.
Now in this fragile moment, as I in tour
Watch one soul struggle, to succeed, as blue
Heavns yet are veiled by vaprous clouds none stir,
And I am starving, oh! Tis Monday. Do
Up plans and I\'ve but few. July\'s demure
In waning. LORD, Thy mercies ever new.
21Jul25a
...too much milk.
...Only, I Don\'t Drink Lattes
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCDLIII)
Ha! Starbucks knows when Autumn\'s here, though they\'ll
Deny it, I am sure, where pumpkin thence
Spice latte shall return. We feel it hence
Within our bones; the light swears too; leaves hail
It, turning red e\'en now, grass looking frail,
And I want to wear plaid henceforth, its sense
Of lo, my fav\'rite season all fr\'intents
I would embrace, if only givn t\'avail.
The kittens bounce \'round off the walls as twere,
Nor could deny my showr, although the two
Sure tried when I got home this morning, poor
As all the fun and games. And Starbucks\' cue
Is \"pick which one for extra stars\" in tour,
Til oh! LORD, save us now, Thy mercies new.
21Jul25b
Flan, not fur.
At Least It\'s Not Faux Fur, You Know?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMMCCDLIV)
Faux flan of more than half the gallon hence
Of milk, tis still too hot tonight t\'avail
Us. And July is ice cream month; regale
Our dinner with black walnut ice cream thence,
And that is dec\'dent., likeas in defense.
Why on these days I\'m lacking sleep\'s detail
Am I in bed late, eh? Flan cooled in frail
Excuse by then, refrig\'rate for good sense.
How neither Peter nor sweet Tigger stir
But to beg when I\'m heading off as due
For bed. Guess nights will be quite lonely fer
All that now we have our routines. I do
Miss their sweet comp\'ny. Oh well. Is that poor?
Oh LORD, restore our souls, for we wait You.
21Jul25c