FrenchA Poem by FlakeFrench dignitaries fought with each other over the pronunciation of paradisal, but not forgetting the point of the preceding conversation either. They hustled and lost, then forgot after dark and rolled together into Tuesday and found ancient writing on the note they left; not sure why -- they don’t know ancient languages, other than French. The curtain blocked the light out for the most part, but there was still plenty of light that seeped through. Plenty of light that exposed. © 2015 Flake |
Stats |