Ghoulish fun it is to trample the moonlight with boots and beer cans in gushing gutters. Howling pups in sour makeup drop buckets of laughter for a shot at sweet heaven. The occurrence of fire on the hallowed eve, wakes up the boozers from their curling up. Take me to the wrong way down, so that I can again believe in my thought separate from my being. Give advantage to the falling, the drowning, the left out in the cold, or I may not let go of the alarm clock with a funny kind of tick of nervousness. My Dear, there are deer in our front and along the side, under and walking on the magnolias. Harvest the last snip of a red head and give her a wave on her way out to sea, where she will see for the first time an uncompromising answer from the deep. The cloud takes the ship on its way to windy spray and often reflects sun drops on the bay. I try often to remember to cherish the rewards that are mostly felt, not touched, as they are not one and the same on the shady side of the high-rise shadow.

Check with your neighbors if their signs have been stolen. The for-sale signs that there's nothing left to invest in tropical drink distribution and marketing. Keep hold of the souvenir mug and don't chip the paint parking next to the island officer and on his last quota. Keep on topic or else you may flop your pick of battles to fight or appointments to keep. Drink up before the ants come to dine, or you'll not find it taped beneath the one under the eucalyptus grove, by the dune seaside. Butterflies breeding above in tranquil flapping and not yelling out passion, but warming in the sunlight and falling together. Quite promising for the maiden calls of the season.