Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
Sharon kept sliding on through, all the way to the big city and beyond where she interrupted a secret meeting of the minds in time to stop them from melding into one with their fool ideas. Don't you know little fool, you never can win.
One night, Sharon found herself hopelessly dancing the tango with a stranger. Later they enjoyed cafe cappuccinos and Cuban sandwiches at a bustling Bistro.
Sharon prefers the company of birds over the discordant trill of cats and dogs. But she has been found to delight in the poetry of butterflies and the rare dance of tigers.