Not here, dear, not here. It's not like that at all for me.

It's only a week, then a week, then one week more, plus a bit. (Ten, ten, and four days, to be more spot on.) Then my hell will be over. Well, it will be far more good in just two, when my kid list will drop from four to two, then all good past the last week. Cold I don't need, but I do need my home and head back.

May the imps come and tidy my home when I doze
May the sun dry the air out as soon as it's rose
May the kids play the game with the mute at full tilt
And may the work men be sexy and wear a kilt.

:D

Oh yes but Mon wins! Hip hip hip!!

Love it so much, scan and beat work, as do fun in the line, well done Mon!

Grey here now and hot, rain is due but will pass over in the wind, in off the sea. The cats doze under an old wind bent tree.

I don't know why this has been such fun but it has. Now off to the Gym for - well - you all know what!

Pen What You Know (a poem)
 

Here they come
Four, five, ten, plus more
To beat the date
One must wait for
The last bit of time that we give.
Then, to moan and fret
At the long line, as if
The time is due to us.

We too fret at
Eyes too hard
Hand fist-made
Sour word.
We sigh, deep, and
Move on.

Neat.

I Like.

So Cool.

Now, work,

ya fool

:p:

I know.
Bad girl.
Need slap.

Work. Uh. NOW!

:)

I have no work to do ....you'd say if you saw me. You'd be a fool. I hide from my duty.

I ken an Eire tune for Mon's song: The Bold P___ R'yal... 3/4 is the time.

R'yal? That is not fair, is it?

I c'uld say that I th'nk that ev'ry one can im pose punc tu a tion or sp'ce to keep to the rule.

To be curt is to be the soul of wit, did say the wry fool in the play.

Each Scot -born, bred and wed, is mean with cash. May be also v'w'ls?

The old fool in the play did not come off as all that wry to me; more full of his own self.

So hot in here.
Know what I'd like?
A new ice age.

Not fair on many
But I'd be glad
Lie back and cool down

Yes, I'd die
But I'd be cold
For the 1st time in many a week.

Diz says no.
He can't bear the cold.
Even at 25.7 he will come to me for hugs.
Here is my play.

Act One:
Urgh.
Hot skin and hot cat hair.
Act Two:
I kill him and bury him.
Act Three:
I feel so bad.
Bye bye I love you hot cat xxxx

It's true Glad Monk! Yet, even if he is full of his own self, his word doth carry some meat. As he said, "To [one] own self be true"

This mode of talk awes me due to the je na se quoi vibe one gets as you read it.

carr y has five :p: