poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

I sing a song
of the croissant
and of the wily French
who trick themselves daily
back to the world
for its sweet ceremony.
Ah to be reeled
up into morning
on that crisp,
buttery
hook.

Added: 2 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 26 May 2012 9:06 AM | Viewed: 3280 times

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