So, 2017 stretches out before us. Whether it is as a gaping chasm ready
to swallow loved ones whole or as a whimsical oak whose twisted, sturdy
branches dare one to climb up to dreams is, alas, beyond any of our
prognostications.
2017 frightens and arouses me and I tremble in its presence.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
Post-note: Might as well start off the new year with a spot of claptrap
and get such foolishness out of the way. Back to my normal doggerel tomorrow.
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