I'll post the poem I wrote for you on the other place.
Rosey's Beard
A Poem by Lo
When I stroke my beard,
I think I hear,
birds singing outside,
on a sunny hillside,
or frogs croaking at dusk,
as the light begins to fade from sight,
but then it moves and I realize,
that it was only a disguise,
and I'm saddened and grey,
because I wished it'd stay.
Happy Birthday, Roseybeard! <3
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