Saturday, 20 April 2013

Two five o'clocks... one day is a very bad thing.

One sick child + eighteen hours awake = burning eyes and a cotton wool brain + no decent writing.

I give up. My A4 pad looks like a dying spider has limped across it, leaking its black blood! Enough.

Anyone care for a poem? (It was either this or a random grumpy cat picture. :))

When I read this, I always get some wonderful pictures in my head. Go on, share a poem with me.

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