She has been lying there, folded into herself, ignoring these autumn days that bring light, but no comfort.
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax -- Of cabbages -- and kings -- And why the sea is boiling hot -- And whether pigs have wings.
She has been lying there, folded into herself, ignoring these autumn days that bring light, but no comfort.
1 comment:
why "she"?
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