of one mortal university
undergraduate built in madly
the brainchild of one Forest Hadley
an a Ford able game paid top dollar
after being purchased by Milton Bradley
called Dodge the Old Farts.

A favorite game I (and the wife) play
here at Highland Manor originated
by yours truly (me) and the spouse
soon after we moved here
eight years ago July first
two thousand and twenty five,
and entails a bit of strategy
and skulduggery to avoid
the poor sniveling souls.

We slink and slither along the halls

Penning these sincere  lines now at will,
how I love this beguiling  process in total,
pulsing rhythms how that must  ink spill,
it’s such a glowing sunshine trail for me,
structure and converse deep within my heart,
I plod, plot, peruse, ponder with utter glee,
one doesn’t always grasp where quests send,
those side routes, side streets, sideways,
chart and map one gladly must amend,
but happiness awaits the blissful dreamer,
they never the object of life charm,
enchantment of the trek a bright redeemer

Two distinct lights,
Lit the scene in fright.

An empty theatre bleak-
A man holding a head.
The whole floor was red.
The clown had a frown.

“Why did you kill me now?”
“Why did you let me down?”
The man strained his fist
(That was all he could to resist)

“I had a vision you see,
Of a world rid of thee-
Of a world set full-free,
Of a gay world you see.”

The clown’s deepened frown
turned right up and around.
“Then I scarcely see,
A world full of thee-

Each season can be, enjoyed in every setting
town, city, urban areas to name but a few
issues aside try to,find merit in segments of time

Stoic surge seascapes surfing soliloquys stir sunshine stroller's
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