the last windmill cookie
that was left
in the box
and which
you were probably
saving
for some reason
You're welcome
it was stale
and should
have been eaten yesterday
-
- Brat Farrar (
bratfarrar) wrote,
Brat Farrar
bratfarrar
Poem (by me): Just a Memo:
the last windmill cookie
that was left
in the box
and which
you were probably
saving
for some reason
You're welcome
it was stale
and should
have been eaten yesterday
Posts from This Journal “poetry” Tag
-
poem: May
- Hilaire Belloc This is the laughing-eyed amongst them all: My lady's month. A season of young things. She rules the light with harmony, and…
-
poem: Eel-grass
- Edna St. Vincent Millay No matter what I say, All that I really love Is the rain that flattens on the bay, And the eel-grass in the cove; The…
-
poetry: Three seasonal haiku
- Forrester end of autumn - finding myself in a field of thistle * summer evening... fanning myself with a paper moon * winter afternoon - a…
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