Sixteen:Fifty-nine

She was from the North,

You shifted gears into her view;

Something is amiss.

The gentle frost melts, reshaping the landscape by whetting the whistle.

No time like present, taking captive audience along for the ride.

You put googlie eyes on the help find me poster licking your chops.

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf in the closet; he lies in waiting.

No time like the present, something is amiss the hour approaches.

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