It was the best of rhymes; it was the worst of rhymes.
It was the page called “Prologue” ; it was the page called “Epilogue”.
It was the epoch of breweries; it was the epoch of leaving early to go there.
It was the season of pollen, it was the season of love bugs.
It was the spring of sprockets, it was the winter of water.
We had everything to the left of us; we had nothing to the right of us.
We were all going directly to the Farm Bureau; we were all going directly to Celebration Pointe.
Hehe! Nice!....and in case we didn't make it clear, you are coming with us to Celebration Point!
ReplyDeleteYes, you are definitely coming. And just think, no more Dungeon!
ReplyDeleteAlthough... I WILL miss Fried Chicken Thursdays...
Lovely, your wit pen is finely honed!
ReplyDeleteWell crafted! See you at Celebration Pointe in a cleaner environment!
ReplyDeleteWait, there were fried chicken Thursdays?!? I have missed out on too much of your life
ReplyDeleteSandy (Walter)Rosvanis
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ReplyDelete