foods that make cavities are fudges, caramels and iced cake
chocolate ice cream with peppermint candy cavities make.
Fish, milk, cheese and healthy eggs are waiting in the wings.
they make your teeth strong and hard among other things
...
“And, by the way, it used to make the beer
brewed here — it is used to make the brewed beer
here in this refine- — oh, Earth Rider,
thanks for the Great Lakes. I wondered
why (inaudible) — (unintelligible).”
~Joe Biden
POTUS
-...and THANK YOU Wynona Ryder,
the Great Pumpkin and RED RIDER BB GUNS for the
Grand Canyon.
Amen
Sunlight scampers between,
the twigs of naked trees.
And a web of shadows,
dance with each feisty breeze.
A silver sky shimmers,
like cheap carnival glass.
And yet, this fickle Sun's
too weak for blades of grass.
Snow accumulates on
branches that bend and break.
And bow low to the ground
with the weight of each flake.
Sugar maple sap stalls,
not even one sweet drip.
And snowmen aren't melting,
frozen in Winter's grip.
Spring's not on stage quite yet,
She's waiting in the wings.
And I can almost smell
the wildflowers She brings.
They watch, they wait
to see my fate.
never adding nor subtracting
hauntingly and numb.
They wait in the wings
of indifference
to announce my outcome.
My life has been a stage
On which I've played the roles
Of friend and lover to the ones
Who came along and touched my soul.
The play is almost over now,
And yet, my heart still sings
When I turn around and see you
Waiting in the wings.
It's no small part you play,
As you enter on the stage.
The audience will rise and cheer
Your part, found on the final page.
The Master Playwright wrote the script
That brought it all to this.
You come to me, the curtain falls,
As we embrace and kiss.
Waiting in the wings,
You're waiting in the wings.
The part you play is like a dream --
Or like a shadow whispering.
The script is written full of love,
Yet, may seem strange to some.
We're in the final act, you see,
And the best is yet to come.
The colors she wore clashed in confusion.
One sock grey, one sock blue
as her mind wandered ... where?
She never knew her name
called out of the fog.
The blouse buttoned wrong
with sleeves too long
and she didn't belong ... anywhere.
When the fog settled in,
she stared out, turned around
full circle to a stop.
Very foggy now walking into a room
not knowing what to do there.
So, she sat in her coat and hat going ... nowhere.
Later from a hand come into view,
she is led to a closet to take things off.
Faces came and went, strangers all
even those who called out "Mom!".
She couldn't say who she was talking to
and that voice ... was that Her voice?
Who was Her?
Better not to speak at all,
let silence take her ... (everywhere).
Let the fog drape around her soul.
Perhaps tomorrow,
the curtains would close
and she would know
what was waiting in the wings.