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After foodtime,
found on a grey,
is she,
a wearer of rubberboots,
when she falls,
off the grey,
down the river she goes,
dig, dig, dig,
we must,
to destroy our roots,
then she showed 'round her head,
barely hid,
under this serious hat,
roses,
she had had,
now away,
from the shed,
she led,
curious and fat,
we dislike roses,
we dig til we're ready,
and then bury the bread,
next to carparts,
and sad,
she looks after smiling,
I'll take her to bed.
©2006-2009 ~silgi
:iconsilgi:

Author's Comments

call it marshmallows
call it life

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:iconkabrotti:
:) (:+fav:)

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my accounts: ~kabrotti (main accont) ~goaties (goat club) ~ReyCabrito (reserved account for future use)
:iconsilgi:
hey, thanks, hey :)
:iconkabrotti:
K'

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my accounts: ~kabrotti (main accont) ~goaties (goat club) ~ReyCabrito (reserved account for future use)

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January 29, 2006
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