Someone stole my favourite flavour and lurked away deep beneath the sea.
He even allowed himself the liberty to devour the daisies and the bright morning breeze.
But little did he figure out the perplexed Rover whose White boat he deserted.
Along came the Robin. He crooned and cajoled her lest she fell into a slumber.
The Rover sailed away to a fascinating brook.
The mellow shadows and streaks of moonbeams set her free.
Old flavours, accompanied by new records and Polka fancies swayed her.
All she could think of was piecing together her broken thoughts and re-inventing her favourite flavour.