Pinky DeLong sat on the wrong
stoop as he beckoned the day.

He celebrated his sun, as she had begun
to conquer the moon again.

He yawned as she dawned and
	she beamed as he leaned
on the brick post at the fore of his bed.

While he languished in her glory,
	she passed the third story
and rested at the top of the bank.

Then his eyes met the wagon,
	the eight-eyed dragon
whose pious reverence was only for him.

So with a smile on his face and his
	morning wad in place
he expectorated the morning at them.

Then scratching as he pleased he rose to his knees
and gathered his bed to his back.

He walked rather bent, yet smiled as he went
enjoying the thrill of another day.

His body filled with mirth as he delighted in the birth
and his victory over the frozen world.

For the joy that life lacked, his love would bring back
when he woke to her morning kiss.

He felt her warm at his side and deep down inside
off walked Pinky DeLong.