Frumpy flashy foe. Tickity friggity toe. Gulp, gulp, gulp. Shiny moony pulp.

Ahhh... nonsense. You hold eternity. Or like, silly men say, salvation.

I would trade my favourite story book, the best pencil, the old golden bag, my evening dreams and morning whimpers for you. Deal???

Look, look. I am just a thought away. On this side of their days.

There's fairy dust in naughty winks. Is it?