Whisper not on my bucolic yum-yum
for I will tickle your frolic where
it’s most licorice
and tie bows on the end of your rain to
see its downside grin;
Now bend your wits and with me leap rainbows
across calliope chuckles in the
no-winter whistles ho ho;
Yellow stars meet red twinkles orange;
We slide lavender ribbons to a spot in space
where no human has been
then dash laughing to rainbows downturned grin;
Here, where no logic lives, we make our own sense,
wiggling our wits where nothing whispers
but shouts universes with a no-mouth;
However you say it, it comes about
And then it is.
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