By the little-bits the little-bits became realized

I sort and mix all the right ingredients that makes a lip smacking, eye drooling over the tasty mental treat contained in my story delights.

The leaves spring green tips floated by, caressing softly countless gentle beings

Dipsy do and Dipsy be. How many dots does Dipsy need to connect the dots, one, two, three.

Spring's colorful tapestry burst forth with growth anew. As winter's deathly sleep struggled with vain attempts to keep all in slumber under its weeping coat of white.

Dream images swell against the mind's sleeping inner shores

Witchin' stitchin'Stitchin' witchin

The night window is a pitched dark mirror reflecting back the room's bright warm interior.

Barely caught thoughts whisper timeless weavings in my mind.