Twist
Solved
poem
at the brink
of mourning light;
have a drink:
vodka,
rocks.
Ice
hisses,
slides and tinks
the glass tumbler
with lime twist,
Stoli,
crisp.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
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Thanks for stopping by...if I'm not here, I'm off listening to others...
1 comment:
you always say everything ...
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