HIS COOKIES

Hitmonlee was quick and strong with their knead, the holiday spirit was lit, calm, and free and inside the hot thoughts of the cookie kits of their mom's christmas trees

It was every season that the swift unwrong deeds, of their oven mits being dawned with yuletide speed told the dojo-gym that their mojoed limbs and so so things were to be along side the sugary lifts and other hip gifts and cookies of spritz and fit food comaed yawns bound for their keys of feasting leads

Sincere was their puffed chef hat, they were gingerbread bound

Coming with eye-grins so dear it was also clear that the baking-trust of the kick-wiz had cookies of dutch left on their mind of the baking spirit mat, yet they were still gingerbread proud

Onto the ozone’s gingerly airforce said their series of cartoon balloons being animated

Onto the row rows and limbs of ferry of the original missionary’s oarforce of dare-sports said their year-see of sharing bars of the moon, the wall of the room was there for the leading and reading of their instructions, and the bands were dated

King Toad was teeing at train speeding junction

Ington’s pros were deeding with Maine’s pleading instructions

Even was the lineup for the ovens, their now appearing lined drawing smile was loving

So it was the season and time had limepups for the cousins, the peer’s towel of sharing was in their primetime and thawing went the worthwhile easy ones, the oven’s buzz was bound to be above their rings

- Avalon Dakota

- 3-17-26

- 11:55am

- HIS COOKIES