Poetry Blog by mollie learmonth (soul)
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A twisted oak coiled round its self the perfect home for a mouse.
He climbed up a twisted branch and made his peace there, he built a nest of twine in the hollow center.
twine woven in brade, ants climbing up in parade. the army came to a hault and flead, they
feared for their lives and would rarther not be dead.
the stars a gemstone, the moon an ivory marble in a get jar.
Monday 17th August 2015 8:11 pm