In the trunk, the stowaway.
In the dark, the smuggled diamonds.
In the wine, bitterness.
In the wool, the manger.
In the rain, the small cold fingers.
In the mailbox, weeping.
In the iron, rust.
In the horse, the donkey.
In the cane, brown sugar.
In the mother, sons.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
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7 comments:
Nice.
Would a donkey be in a horse, or a mule?
Shut up, Bob.
I guess that depends on the donkey, Bob...
i coudn't resist the word verification so i have to say something. *LOL* it's lrkifxi btw. i am working on a poem that consists only of those word verification combinations, you see. it'll be a huge success. *LOL*
michi, who's dwelling on some very different planet, and who is certain that madness dwells in her brain. and who likes your dwellings list.
btw how is your ipod?
the donkey, because the mule was nowhere to be found.
smile
michi -
my ipod needs juice!
jamglu
Like this very much!!
thank you kindly!
Sarah,
I really like this latest offering.
Best,
Rachel
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