It’s your lucky day,
Mouse caught in my sink. No cat.
No heart for killing.
It’s your lucky day,
Mouse caught in my sink. No cat.
No heart for killing.
I love poetry. But I'm picky. No one pays me to read and write poems. It's more of a labor of love. I guess that puts me in good company. This is a project to discover why some poems strike you deep, deep down, while others leave you cold. I've got some ideas, and I'm eager to learn. I'll show you some of mine. Maybe we'll learn something new. View all posts by Bobby Ball
“Where’s my mouse, George? You promised me a mouse of my very own!”
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Thanks for stopping by. I played George way back in high school.
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