Monday, September 11, 2006

POEM: Early One Morning

He saw a stone in the grass,
and he knew it was the best stone
it could possibly be.
He heard a song by a small bird,
the greatest song it could sing.
He touched his right hand
with his left
in the finest way possible,
and he smelled the September air
precisely the way a person should.
He then headed for home
to taste a flawless piece of toast
for breakfast.

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