A silver moon casts its frosty shadow on the chilly water.
The hoary frost blanketed the twigged countryside.
He frosted his acquaintances in both deed and word.
Frostily, he explained the punch line.
We join each one over nouns and verbs.
We help with adjectives, too.
And if the verb needs our assistance,
we're there with voices true.
Though soft on placing commas there,
The m-dash makes us blush.
We're never sure, though check it twice,
Which one has our trust.
The action verb escapes our pen,
But not the wise, old owl's.
And if stray "that"s begin to show,
We'll strike them out with howls.
We don't forget the rule of three
or making subjects follow.
"Repeat me not!" we say again.
It makes the meaning hollow.
Add a space or make a typo,
Those we can amend.
And when the last of thought dost show,
We make our periods . . .
end.
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