Spingebill’s Mind Dump

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  Amidst the gentle breeze, a field of purple grace,  Lavenders dance with elegance, in nature's warm embrace.  Their fragrant whispers fill the air, a soothing melody,  A symphony of purple hues, a sight for all to see. In sunlit days and moonlit nights, their petals softly sigh,  A testament to nature's art, beneath the open sky.  With slender stems and blooms so fair, they stand in quiet splendor,  A fragrant sea of lavender, a timeless, calming render. Each blossom holds a tale untold, a secret in its scent,  A lavender symphony, in perfumed notes, it's lent.  A purple tapestry unfurls, painting dreams in lavender,  A canvas woven by the wind, a fragrant, sweet endeavor. Underneath the azure sky, they nod in rhythmic trance,  A dance of purple poetry, a tranquil, fragrant dance.  Their essence lingers in the air, a balm for weary souls,  In lavender fields, serenity eternally unrolls. So, let us stroll through lavender dreams, where time moves slow,  In fields of purple

​ Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—     While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—             Only this and nothing more.”     Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.     Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow     From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—             Nameless  here  for evermore.     And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;     So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating     “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating en

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