Teething Tither, Such a Wither... By: J. L. Moreaux

Where'dst thou love,
When the leaves fall dead?
The love has never ended,
Our mothers have spread.

Safe am I! Oh, I care great!
Open the box, our lovely fate.
The mortal sins upon us, bad.
These, which make us tearful, sad.

Aye! Say the glass half full!
It speaks truth, comforting whole.
Bringing me water so pure.
Yes! This may be the constant cure!

Drink from the cup of Eden!
It has already been corrupt.
We know this is the right thing.
The happiness will soon erupt!