Hang on, stitching together your page...
I need to speak before I’m interrupted
before my heartstrings slip and lose their tune.
But speaking may make harmony disrupted,
my voice a squeak and not bassoon’s low croon.
Um, Aeronwy, I really need to say—
Oh, no, now this?!
Well, this cannot be borne.
There’s nothing here! You see this empty tray?
But why do you want hair of unicorn?