and under a tree
i knew an old man
named fibber mcgee.
he was my friend.
fibber spent his days
trimming the tree.
didn't realize
the roots were rotten as could be.
wasting his ways away.
i pray for you,
mr fibber mcgee.
a collective of things i find intriguing; picture shows and bird calls, songs and short sentences, taradiddles and not taradiddles, and hopefully some of my own stuff also.
No comments:
Post a Comment