The bed rock of fools play,
Starts with the misnomer
Of a dream sequence,
That ends with a fright.
That is left to my imagination
To lurk within its shadows.
There where thoughts begin,
You will find the stories end.
Seldom do I give away the plot,
Of a mystery that is to unfold.
Being but a lame writer,
I could not ever be that bold.
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Love ya!
Jane