Incognito, My Dear

Saturday morning frost prickles curtains underbelly

Today out of slumber I rose peacefully

Thoughts a carnival of ponderence and winter loathing.

This non-localised-sense births coherence when partnered with rhyme!

Much intrigue in my deductions… Much indeed.

Try not to think of plots in holes. I free myself with this game I holds.

What stifles more other than rhyme marrying grammar? If, of a union, there was none – then words would be so such fun!

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