dreams, wants, needs, likes, dislikes, greeds, do it tomorrows, too many square toits, 
never enough round ones, that was one of Tol's (my Father, who was a Foster Father, 
C.E. Tol [pronounced TALL] Foster) jokes, 
always finding Square Toits, never getting a Round To It.
Always something distracting, poor timing, or just sheer thick headed lazyness.
Hmm, he always called me MuscleHead, and asked "What are you good for?" all the time.
Think he knew something I haven't figured out yet?

Father Mine, 
The Fates are Cruel!
They took you Tol,
They cut the Tales too short,
They left the tears too long.
There is no puppy in the window.
The sash is down,
You went out of town.
!Death!
"What are you Good For?"
Forced into a Shell,
No Bounce left to right
All rolled in a Ball.
No Entity to Fight.
Try as I May,
Try as I mite,
All I can write
Is oh so contrite.
Father Mine,
Your Left was my Wrong,
But I was not strong,
I could not follow along.
There is no sing to my song.
I am but a Fool,
Not a sharp tool.
Tell me,
Father Mine!
What will I ever be good for?

Maybe its just doggerel, bad puns (are there ever any good puns by definition),
eternal punishment, strewn metaphors and silly similes, all hung together, 
maybe, 
maybe that is what I am good for?

Loren Foster aka shadolrds

“From Whom Words Shadow Doles”

https://shadolrds.wordpress.com/

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