The workings of your paddock.A Poem by andrew mitchell
The sheep
in your paddock was me, how i grazed on your paddock until you were finely cut to my making. Then the cow came along dumping its impression on you. If only I knew the fence that held you was insecure. I left not standing the filth, while you remained green. © 2021 andrew mitchell |
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Added on February 28, 2021 Last Updated on February 28, 2021 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more.. |

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