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: 2 Mar 2021 9:21 PM | Viewed: 15047 times
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