WalkingA Poem by smon
Plod, plod, plod,
Plod, tap, plod, tap, plod, tap. You catch up to me. A greeting. I yawn. And yes, YES! You, burning in my periphery, Yawn in echo. Ahh. I crumble into a big, stupid grin, and taplodtaplodtaplod © 2010 smon |
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Added on November 7, 2010 Last Updated on November 7, 2010 |