Tufts of hair,
A swirling.
Eyes that glisten,
Mouth an orb,
Open to the wind.
Ears, with penchant,
Sounds a flowing,
Sighing, in the night,
Echoes from the
Empty corridors
And vacant rooms,
Until the morning light.

In the name of the Father
and of the Son,
Religion may not be for everyone.
Do you believe in a higher being?
If you do, you must admit
at this moment, would he omit,
the lying racist from this place,
that most call the Human Race?

Marmalade heaven, oh let it be.
Marmalade toast and a cup of tea.
Silly jingle with simple rhyme.
I could eat Marmalade toast
Almost every time.

In my mind,
a Columbine
is so fine,
I could look at them
all the time