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For the break.fast at hand,
So that I'll understand,
He makes me a sloppy jo.
... ug. So over I rolled.


She nibbles at JO,
waves g’morning to MO…

Mmmm.
A tasty treat, made so sweet,
I’m glad, one of us can cook…
First it was Sweez, now it’s Swowz…
I politely, normally don’t eat cows.

Having said that, while I pet my cat,
I’ve bitten in anyway.
Was like the day, the corn turned grey,
Was that by chance, in May?

!! Eleven elevens !! cried those sevens,
While being tossed into the pan!!!!
Who is the cook with spatula hand,
Who is the chef, and Who, this man?

. . . . .

Little salt my dear?
Little taste on the fix?
Was that May?
Or did you say May-trix?

. . . . .

With the morning JO,
He makes Sloppy MO!
How can I show him, to understand….?
My friend the chef, reads to the left,
So Who, is the spatula’s hand?

Psst…
They want a plan.
Four corners are on…
and the Dan said ‘when’.

. . . . .

Don’t assume, my cutest Jew,
That spelling is all for not.
My dog is a Rot, but a Rot she’s knot,
And the language She barks is new.
Did you want that clue?

Bye and bye, for now I must fly,
My belly has quite the mix.
Did he say JO, or was that MO?
I know, SHE said May-tricks.

. . . . .

Hey Jo…?
Little Do,
Rayed me,
but falls hope?
Know,... T.
La.tte...my Dear?
Satire is queer.
Hugs you love,
The morning calls,
From Above.
Xoxox

. . . . .

Makes note: keeping friendship.s.new, that's me and you.
~I'm such a muse.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

~wow and meow the Catz say, how,
!~! did he fix you, a sloppy JO?
Does he not know,
That you never show,
Your face, in the drive and go?
~except maybe four treats,
that have no feet...
Like the splits, and
the camels, pistachio...
~and why aren't cow,
a treat you say?
~they have square feet,
and it's knot my way.

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