A great marshmallow harvest

Fluffy vessels

Bob boundlessly

Atop

The Warm chocolate waves.

That are only dictated,

By the occasional

Prescence, of the

Crescent spoon that

Hangs just below the horizon,

Of this Styrofoam ocean.

Pudgy fingers

Like greedy

Pirates,

Pluck the fuffy barrels of sugar

From the frothy troughs of

The seasonal soup.

And fire them like cannonballs,

Into a greedy mouth,

Where they bounce 

Like

Balls

Off a trampoline tounge,

And

Ricochet  from tooth to tooth

Like a runaway pinball.

(Obliterating the former high score)

The marshmallows are not afraid.

Because the teeth, although obviously sharp,

Resemble the marshmallows, in both appearance,

And in splendid,

Candid spirit.

(When in reality, this coudnt be further from the tooth.)

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