The above title is for Dr. F. For the rest of you....nothing. I have nothing as accurate as that. So, on to the blog:
Yes, young one winter is upon us
The cold that chills the spine
Is here and all hurry to warmth and comfort
Run, run if you are able at all
To do more than balance on those spikes
But wait! As you come within my compass
Where I patiently wait for my own girl
I see your long uncovered legs
Blue against the snow,
Bare midriff white as wax
And I think mayhap I have it wrong.
Is this not, then, a school?
Is it perhaps a place for high flyers
And you a barque of frailty?
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