To note, to keep it in mind....
Orange Top can say what she wants about her, The Smell.
But when on sunny day, perhaps as T' O.T. may have predicted.
Alone she walks.
Big sausage and littlun.
No one else.
She's above everyone else.
So T' O.T. said.
A year back.
Just one year.
Twelve months.
Another universe back.
There is no way in heaven and earth.
She.
Could... not 'would', could, have ever countenanced a lingering.
And even a latent smile.
And a want, to talk, and share.
That love.....
Us all in the same place.
No escape.
The Black Swans circling.
Yes, " go ask, last May the great big arsey one down the Spar..... told me of the true silver lining...
"a run on tests...
" I bet your young lasses adore him....
"hahhhh hahhhh my first plague-pup.... "
So we once had her lingering aroma.
Now we have the impossible.
Her smile.
And she lingered to show it off.
That was impossible, in that last universe.
And so how does one parableise that particular impossibility?
And there's me thinking I had it all.
Done.
Even the right "bottle", of course must be hers, Mrs MOO's..
Because a mere year ago she was impossible too.
Because she is esteemed. For real.
.
