You gave me your arm
I gave you my hand
Was there ever a love
quite so grand in the land?

You use my grove
as if it were your own
I think it's (kind of) sweet
how you think of it as home.

You skeesh me after eating tons of pie
then I thwap you on the head
Oh, darling Schisstae
why don't we hop in bed?

Even though the arm decayed
the love (like the smell) remains
And as the years pass us by
I hope you always stay the same.


Penned by my hand on the 10th of Miraman, in the year 384 AF.