To: Darksheare
Where in the wandering night we go
over the star humps under the glow
down a winding, bumpy road
the turn of the toad in his black hat
the side-winder grin of the old cat
space wandering these odd souls
with turned up toes and long skinny nose
they whiz and they whine
skipping though the white rime
on their merry way they go
like something from Fairy Tale Land
or little Hobbits on the run
digging holes in the ground in which
to hide and tease the wood's animals
wild like a naughty bratty child...
Oh these brazen little beings
none of them without feelings
always fleeing on the go
they run from who they do not know
And where do the Hobbits little friends
the gnomes hang their hats
and clean their brooms
groom their hairs and comb mustaches
hug their honeys by the ashes
Strange happenings beyond the doors
little cakes on the floor
rosy cheeked childen by the door
wandering round the Dimensional Door
Wandering, wandering evermore.
To: bentfeather
241 posted on
08/01/2004 2:25:56 PM PDT by
Darksheare
(Lunatic turtle on the barnyard fence with a fruitcake gun, shouting many squirrels..)
FreeRepublic.com is powered by software copyright 2000-2008 John Robinson