Marshmallow StewA Poem by Ranger Kessel
They’re warm and they’re squishy
and they’re filled with white goo. They smell sort of fishy and pop when you chew. They roast in her lap and drip on her shoe. They’re covered in clap from her lips shining blue. What else can one say about the marshmallow stew? © 2017 Ranger Kessel |
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Added on June 23, 2017 Last Updated on June 23, 2017 |