Spiritual Power


The clock ticking as my mind I tock,
Nothing more mellow than eggnog throck.

I lie in a chair all but completely unaware,
What creature may lurk set to snare.

For I am not frightenend nor ever shall be,
I am a seed planted of an old apples tree.

Tall and stout as I scurry all around about,
Fear me creatures for my roar and shout.

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