I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.
 
A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.
 
The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.
 
Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.
 
Although my raiment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla.
 
Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I’d rather it melted somewhere else.
 
Exit child with remains of cone.
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone,
 
Muttering spells like an angry Druid,
Alone, in the dusk, with the cleaning fluid.

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