poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

On shallow straw, in shadeless glass,
Huddled by empty bowls, they sleep:
No dark, no dam, no earth, no grass -
Mam, get us one of them to keep.

Living toys are something novel,
But it soon wears off somehow.
Fetch the shoebox, fetch the shovel -
Mam, we're playing funerals now. 

Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 21 Nov 2009 12:43 PM | Viewed: 8412 times

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