copper venture
Forever, I'll mourn my curious little boy.
Chattering and chirping,
Making his home in the hollows of grand old oaks.
Pale and soft, he glowed with a gentle moonlight,
And his long antenna curled into a great spiral.
The wistful weeping willow still whispers his name,
Hanging its head with deep-rooted sorrow.
I miss hearing from my dear old friend too,
Home-made, with sewed-on buttons for eyes
And a raggedy lilac waistcoat.
I remember he smelled like warm lavender,
And he had splatters of white paint
All over his fuzzy brown feet.
He's brainless now, but I suppose he always was.
austere gyro
untold mulch