The MarketA Poem by electricmangoA man strolls nonchalantly down a narrow road. The aroma of fresh fish, gathers in his nostrils. "One Cigarette please," he calls to the shop keeper. "I'm sorry, we only sell fish," he replies.
© 2017 electricmango |
Stats
87 Views
Added on September 16, 2017 Last Updated on September 16, 2017 Author
|
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing