Fa-So-La-La, Poet Laureate of The Beehive, is, at present, sitting at the game table across the room from me, happily occupied with
She is up to her elbows in words. Words she can actually touch (oh joy!) and manipulate (ecstasy!). She is, therefore, happy.
She muses aloud: "This is like verbal matchmaking. Quite fun."
Then she ponders how delightful it would be to have a similar game with all the little word strips being the names of her friends and acquaintances.
Perhaps I should intervene, parentally speaking.
I should banish all household copies of Emma to the garage immediately.
* * * * * * * *
For the curious, here's her favorite of the poems she engineered this morning from those delectable little white word strips:
Foul mountain, concealing
Crisp, green secrets
And cold plastic slander
Where is the chocolate?
(Whew. I rather like it.)
For the unitiated, or those merely tempted by the vile demon of boredom, many variations of Magnetic Poetry can be played online. Oh frabjous joy!