Winter winds whisper to a night sky,
“Salutations”, and sometimes, “adieu”.
But when winter winds notice, our slumber and snoring,
winter winds whisper, “I love you.”
💕

They can eat as many of my words that they’d like, but they’ll never taste the emotion.

Much better to pick up a brush, pen, or guitar, than to deal with those insufferable weenies and ghouls.

Attracted to A.I. like moths to a flame, One wishes they’ll simply be burned.

Good morning to you,
You splendid soul,
swirling,
twirling,
with but a coffee
In your veins.
💕

💕