poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

            
  Some gentlemen are floating in the meadow over 
the yellow grass.

  They seem to hover by those wonderful blue 
little flowers that grow there by those rocks.

  Perhaps they have floated up from that nearby 
graveyard?

  They drift a little when the wind blows.

  Butterflies flutter through them . . .

Added: 18 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 22 Nov 2008 4:05 PM | Viewed: 1925 times

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