Having Some Fun Writing
If blood were mud
And milk was silk
We'd all hurt for dirt
And scheme for cream.
If flies were wise
And hills were pills
We'd all hug the bugs
And pop the tops.
If everything was truly something
And anything was nothing
This little rhyme of mine
Would hence make sense.
But free verse can be a curse
In many a witless word heard
When the writer drinks hard-cider
And recalls naught of what he originally thought!
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
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