Random words are tumbling out of my mouth, so I made them into a poem:
Fluff o’ the countryside
like puffs of dandy, will o’ wisp — smoke.
The wind might carry them down the hill,
where they shall land
where they will,
and blossom into another life –
in a burst of yellow,
fanfare and Fife.
I stand in defiance of anyone who dares to say this isn’t any good! 😛 Gold falls out of my mouth… Seriously, just joking people.