The House of Holidays
I bid you welcome, merrywell,a bowl full of glee,
As you confirm, British, my drawl,
You'll ascertain in my sophisticants, calligraphy, my scrawl,
I clad in the finest and adornments in ditto,
Top hat, penguin tail coat, and razor edge slacks that park upon pedestal silk pillow,
The colour of my attire in no bore, changing with season, or mood depending,
Which is all in your choosing mind of transcending,
My golden locks are short but very announced,
And blue eyes omit nothing, cannot be denounced,
I am a riddle hard-pressed to be solved,
I speak in gray truths, in lights of blight, corrupting the nature that evolved,
Is there a dream? A hushed desire? I'll create profound fantasies,
But hold fast boys and girls, you may not wish to mold such realities,
For is there a price that one pays?
Do you dare,
Come take a stare,
Into my House of Holidays!
(Jeremy Mac is an Arkansas native and multi-genre fiction author with three novels, as well as a variety of shorter stories and poetry to his list of writing credits. Please stop by to learn more about Jeremy Mac, and leave a comment on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/jeremymac.
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