Relating unrelated scattered thoughts and noises, poses poised, wordses toys; 
said I into the call:
"In winter passing autumn rises summer meets the fall, 
The spring forgets that not coveted; nothing meets the all.
For all the things we hid away 
I knew I had to hold or stay
My course, my action, repetition
Languid motion's exhibition 
Perfect but not perfunctory."

"Cool story,"
Replied
My brother

"Though it's the epitome of cringe:
Some things like poetry. one just ought not to binge."

At that I felt a tinge
Of sadness.
He the other

But don't you know:
Epitome rhymes with
Home.