On the Abode

After years and months on the gone
A season of home is the modern song
Relative time is spatially thin
So here and now is where I whim

Beat the poet with words and sticks
Couches rest these feats and fits
Doggish news our hearts are full
Cliché carts with groceries mull

What the meal for next day plan
Scouring scurry the meat-grease pan
Life excited exhortation 
Milder mewl amelioration

Practice preaching from the seat
Wilder days are pills to eat
Gone cold, turkey, past is part
Of the window winter start

Laurels vested on the chest
Sweater crested vaulted west
Here's a middle without a thorn
From abode I won't be torn

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