Poetry, it doesn’t speak to me
I often have to tap it upon its shoulder, before it turns around and chats freely. I recall one such time it did reveal itself, it became a tattered flyer on a Parisian lamp post. How strange. Why...
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"When I did return, a little dog stopped by, sniffed my leg and wrote something post-modern."Matt,Poetry can be like that!Your words explain it beautifully!Simply grand!!Sarah
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And an excellently written bit of fun at that. Your words make their mark, just as the little dog made its own.
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Matt, This is fantastic. I so enjoyed the wit here. It was almost like reading "Jabberwocky." The ending is BRILLIANT! Rich
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lol well at least you came away with a 'souvenir' Matt. Regards, Maryse
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Too funny, that little dog writing something post-modern after sniffing the speaker's leg! Enjoyed much. take care, kerri
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I loved this LOL the ending is down right masterful deb
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