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since the grim reaper stole me mum words my recourse to express how fateful symbiosis ma pop got snagged asper one wonderful ambidextrous artistic woman adroit nailing a brad - marsh a rose, the special gal grateful, befriended my dad many coe sure tokens of appreciation doth figure me glad how this poem ought to jump start then motor along the information superhighway, cuz me iz the grown lad of Boyce, whose re:comp pence, pleasance, presence, and importance - worth brings each as a mutual friend to the other, whereat thine octogenarian widower papa repurposed, regained, rebounded, et cetera, and feeling quite at home in your pad oh...and gratitude for allowing, and permitting Matthew Scott harris tush hair his poetry, which might immediately spur (an omg - why didst aye enable vernacular speaking/ writing secular, and peculiar sole son to rad duck gull quaking scribe) fill up the screen of your notebook or tab let, or whatever the name would be of electronic link providing the access per bing linkedin to whirled wide web, and if we sustain stock key exchange of emails, ye might be driven to drink so much poison scorpion spiked ale, then squinting eyes to resemble a chink blocking any light to induce thee tub blink as this fledgling poem strives to soar and alight this barred bard will wonder if you didst delight in re: ding this expressly feeble jesting bon jure lame resulting take off tubby, sans a les miserables flight never attaining maximum height.