My pal's gold color'd locks and gold stash, My pal's droll grand chops and fab snoot, My pal's "don't draw a blank"-look and bass-alto call And dog who has gnaw'd on my boot. All oft call to my mood; My gasps almost constantly show Scraps of my pal's tobacco's odor. Commonly from Tallow Stall Row. At days that my gasps grasp tobacco, Pathos knocks my awkward gong. Mayhaps my mood looks at my past pal, Or mayhaps my gasp was too strong?Comments closed
College poetry by Peter Pegs