I postponed writing this entry so that I could entertain you with rhythm and rhyme. I suppose you have waited long enough, thus, I will unleash the creativity that Firenze has embedded deep within my soul. I refer to this portion of my poetic journey as, "Dante." I awoke to the sound of yelling and looked up to see a blonde head It was Elizabeth, angry at the time I had spend in bed "It’s 11 o'clock and the Spanish boy is waiting behind the door" "I have not had enough sleep," I said, "I need much more" The day began with a journey for something to wear Thank goodness for me, I really do not care Elizabeth, however, held a different view As we walked and walked I gave up and had to sit Elizabeth
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