Apple of My Eye

Shana Aubrey Harris – whose existence begat by dada and da mama; aye revel your bursting at figurative seams viz maturation, and know by chatting over telephone, your aura, charisma, and persona finds me blinking back tear ducts ready to loose water works i.e. cry at how fate gifted this papa, whose existence would be devoid without you, and purposefulness undermined if loss of such a daughter as thee (one young lady more valuable than words can spell), a reason to live shipwrecked with psyche marooned to die emotional devastation, never quashed even mouthed or uttered fee fie Foe fum – jack (of Beanstalk storybook fame) would also lack will to live, (yes as would the giant), thence, this grunting, groveling, and grieving guy forced to traverse firmament like a zombie – hi King over boulevard of broken dreams, cuz I (re: this humdrum Harris heir), his soul asylum inconsolably reign if irrevocably punctured akin to mortally wounded crane willpower to defeat death, could not be staved, stanched, nor stopped, tis fool hardy to allow darksome, irksome, or unwholesome thoughts, whence best for brain to rejoice your awesome, lithesome and winsome transformation into a beauty, a non-biased commentary I cannot resist to exclaim an angelic, beloved charming progeny frolicking thru the meandering time stream, perhaps stopping at brooks edge where flora and fauna frame thee, (infinitesimal instant doth camera cap cha) if game to pose as a gamine hipster inspiring a jazzy mosaic – type meme before resuming dipping back into waters of life, whereby experiential arcade beheld like courtly table adorned with a fancyfeast to BuzzFeed, the sights and smells before yar senses appear as a charade boot upon scrutiny, ye exhibit hesitancy to inch closer; comfort food beckons so ye haint a frayed to take steps into ever glade puzzled at cornucopia cob bulled together and laid without presence of maid in America, this pastiche of quality eats, and thoughts circulate sans who paid for resplendent sustenance, whence Edenic garden ye strayed until, a life size topiary chain saw creation (a hedgerow carved in likeness of – Shana Aubrey Harris) all of a sudden burst of doting, and fawning family and friends salute touching vote wondrous young lady no amount of riches would anybody trade HAPPY BIRTHDAY, a shout rings out glory and scale of your worthiness no mass out weighed!