.
There once was a dog named Bob,
Who chased a bluejay into a glob,
of syrup and tears,
A mailbox of fears,
But food on his plate made tail throb!
.
If I could just draw a letter,
perhaps,
this limerick would be better…
.
But,
I doubt it.
.
The latest photography prompt
– A Photo of Your Handwriting –
had me chasing a bluejay into a glob too,
just like Bob,
the dog.
.
According to online graphology ‘experts’,
or at least my take on their ‘expertise’ and my handwriting (wherein I could be wrong),
my style of writing is,
a Windmill*,
but does a windmill know it’s a windmill?
And does the Windmill agree,
with what others see,
when judging a scribe by its scribblings?
.
There once was a Windmill style writer,
who thought they were a WWII fighter,
they strafed,
and chafed,
And their load made was very much lighter.
.
Still horrific,
how terrific!
.
.
for more on graphology and the Windmill style…
The Windmill Personality; buffeted by the Storms of Life
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