A stroll in the forest, I fall on my face
Laughter I hear, of my disgrace
My ruse has worked, I grab a hold
Of the tiny cobbler, with rainbows of gold
Now that he’s mine, the wishes are too
If I can name it, he’ll make it true
This entry was posted by Zardilann on June 29, 2014 at 08:00, and is filed under Poems, Writing.Both comments and pings are currently closed.
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