The Germ Chaser
I knew a careful lady once
Who read a book by Dr. Bunce,
A wise authority on wogs
That roam about in dust and fogs;
Indeed, he pointed out, all air,
However pure, held germs somewhere;
They clung to door-knobs, crawled on floors,
Inhabited small change in scores.
In fact, there scarcely was a thing
To which some foul germ did not cling,
Ready to leap and work its will
To some poor luckless human's ill.
The lady closed the book and sighed,
And all content within her died.
This pleasant earth for her became
The haunt of wogs, and life a game
Of hide and seek. She joined the band
Of grim germ-chasers in the land.
She scoured and scrubbed, examined food -
Which, thus far, was all to the good -
But when she strove to disinfect
Her home, 'twas worse than mild neglect;
No hospital smelled half so bad,
And then, I fear, she went quite mad.
Her eye took on a maniac glare;
She saw germs lurking everywhere.
She hung up mottoes such as this:
'Ten thousand germs in every kiss.'
She would not handle coins or take
Another's hand for friendship's sake;
Scarce dared to eat or draw a breath
For fear she might imbibe her death.
She sprayed her husband, heels to head,
With crude carbolic till he fled;
But, since she had means of her own,
She much preferred to live alone.
When going into town one day,
Wrapped up and muzzled in a way
Quite microbe-proof, from foot to crown,
A passing motor knocked her down.
And where she's sleeping soundly now
The germs have got her, anyhow…
The point of this sad tale is here:
Better be dead than live in fear;
Better live like a Stone Age man
Before germ-consciousness began;
Better take chances, seems to me,
Than try to dodge what you can't see.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Related quotes
Germ-Free
Germ-free parts of the body live,
Palatial fountains are like springs of heaven.
The palace in this place supplies
And the organisms or germs will cling.
More than a dream, the ones with words proclaim,
Germs combine to make of the fruit,
Has the disease spread for formations?
Promulgations made in this name are fruitful.
Bodies react according to minds,
Minds also react to the soul in the heart.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Tyranny.
'Spring-germs, spring-germs,
I charge you by your life, go back to death.
This glebe is sick, this wind is foul of breath.
Stay: feed the worms.
'Oh! every clod
Is faint, and falters from the war of growth
And crumbles in a dreary dust of sloth,
Unploughed, untrod.
'What need, what need,
To hide with flowers the curse upon the hills,
Or sanctify the banks of sluggish rills
Where vapors breed?
'And -- if needs must --
Advance, O Summer-heats! upon the land,
And bake the bloody mould to shards and sand
And dust.
'Before your birth,
Burn up, O Roses! with your dainty flame.
Good Violets, sweet Violets, hide shame
Below the earth.
'Ye silent Mills,
Reject the bitter kindness of the moss.
O Farms! protest if any tree emboss
The barren hills.
'Young Trade is dead,
And swart Work sullen sits in the hillside fern
And folds his arms that find no bread to earn,
And bows his head.
'Spring-germs, spring-germs,
Albeit the towns have left you place to play,
I charge you, sport not. Winter owns to-day,
Stay: feed the worms.'
poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Lady of the Motor Car
The Lady of the Motor-car she stareth straight ahead;
Her face is like the stone, my friend, her face is like the dead;
Her face is like the stone, my friend, because she is “well-bred”—
Because her heart is dead, my friend, as all her life was dead.
The Lady of the Motor-car she speaketh like a man,
Because her girlhood never was, nor womanhood began.
She says, “To the Aus-traliah, John!” and “Home” when she hath been.
And to the husband at her side she says, “Whhat doo you mean?”
The Lady of the Motor-car her very soul is dead,
Because she never helped herself nor had to work for bread;
The Lady of the Motor-car sits in her sitting-room,
Her stony face has never changed though all the land is gloom.
Her motor-car hath gone to hell—the hell that man hath made;
She sitteth in her sitting-room, and she is not afraid;
Nor fear of life or death, or worse, could change her well-bred mien;
She knits socks in a stony way, and says, “Whhat doo they mean?”
The lady in her carriage sits, with cushions turning green—
And once it was a mourning-coach, and once it held a queen.
Behind a coachman and a horse too old to go to war,
She driveth to her “four o’clocks” and to her sick and poor.
And when the enemy bombards and walls begin to fall,
The Lady of the Motor-car shall stand above you all;
Amongst the strong and silent brave, and those who pray or shriek,
She’ll nurse the wounded from the grave and pacify the weak.
And if the enemy prevails, with death on every side,
The Lady of the Car shall die as heroines have died,
But if the victory remains, she’ll be what she hath been,
And, sitting in her motor-car, shall say: “
Whhat doo you mean?
”
poem by Henry Lawson
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I Hate Germs
i hate germs
they're nasty things
they're spread by kissing
and mozzie stings.
so i don't kiss
nor go outside
i sit at home
with the door shut tight.
i cook my food
for hours and hours
i avoid preservatives
and wheat and flour.
it really is quite boring
and i'm not happy
but those nasty germs
they don't get me.
poem by David Keig
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No food is wasted
The milk poured over the idol’s head
Trickles down to reach the earth.
The milk is not spilt; germs are there to eat.
The milk spoilt means germs have eaten it.
The milk stolen by the cat is not a waste.
No organic food goes waste
And is broken down to elements
In cycles of feeding by organisms.
The elements, the end product,
Serves as food to the plant kingdom.
08.02.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Winter Complaint
Now when I have a cold
I am careful with my cold,
I consult a physician
And I do as I am told.
I muffle up my torso
In woolly woolly garb,
And I quaff great flagons
Of sodium bicarb.
I munch on aspirin,
I lunch on water,
And I wouldn’t dream of osculating
Anybody’s daughter,
And to anybody’s son
I wouldn’t say howdy,
For I am a sufferer
Magna cum laude.
I don’t like germs,
But I’ll keep the germs I’ve got.
Will I take a chance of spreading them?
Definitely not.
I sneeze out the window
And I cough up the flue,
And I live like a hermit
Till the germs get through.
And because I’m considerate,
Because I’m wary,
I am treated by my friends
Like Typhoid Mary.
Now when you have a cold
You are careless with your cold,
You are cocky as a gangster
Who has just been paroled.
You ignore your physician,
You eat steaks and oxtails,
You stuff yourself with starches,
You drink lots of cocktails,
And you claim that gargling
Is a time of waste,
And you won’t take soda
For you don’t like the taste,
And you prowl around parties
Full of selfish bliss,
And greet your hostess
With a genial kiss.
You convert yourself
Into a deadly missle,
You exhale Hello’s
Like a steamboat wistle.
You sneeze in the subway
And you cough at dances,
And let everybody else
Take their own good chances.
You’re a bronchial boor,
A bacterial blighter,
And you get more invitations
Than a gossip writer.
Yes, your throat is froggy,
And your eyes are swimmy,
And you hand is clammy,
And you nose is brimmy,
But you woo my girls
And their hearts you jimmy
While I sit here
With the cold you gimmy.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Kisses blown are kisses wasted. Kisses aren't kisses unless they are tasted. Kisses spread germs and germs are hated. So kiss me baby I'm vaccinated.
Chemicals
Modernity
TVs, Stereos, IPhones, IPads, Kindles, Computers
The future
Dishwashers, washing machines, throw away mops
Instant ….
The present
Drano, Fracking, Clorox, Ammonia
Better Living Through Chemistry — TM, DuPont
Nerve Gas, Sarin, Mustard Gas, Pollution, Radiation
Wars, Causalities, Land Mines
Danger
Lemon Pledge, Comet, Purell, Lysol, Lavender Pine Sol
Kills Germs
Kills the Immune System
Dirt, Mud, Play, Childhood, Fun
Nature is Fun
Messy, beautiful, magical
Don’t fear the germs
It will be okay
It will be clean
Don’t fear the mud
It will be clean
Don’t fear the scrapes,
They will heal.
Make childhood happy
Make it glad
Fill it with exploring
Fill it with play
Don’t fear it
It’s a time of wonder
We all need to wonder.
It’s how we get amazing things,
It’s how we get amazing minds.
Be wonderful
Be curious
Be alive.
And always explore
always play
always improve
And be yourself!
poem by Edmund Davis Quinn
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Most Likely, I'm Smitten, but Possibly Not
Which is the greater cause of consternation,
Her or them? The former's come again, and
She is, as she was a week ago, a double blow,
A wit, a beauty. How I love to fence with her,
To thrust, 'I worship Paul Cezanne, ' and
Parry, 'Jasper Johns is good, ' and 'Dylan
Thomas is my man, ' but 'William Carlos
Williams is, as you say, also very fine, ' and
She, tonight, in black completely, short
And slinky knitted dress and nylons and
Stiletto heels. I would not run my motorcycle
Through such complicated curves. Or am I
Reeling due to germs? My stomach's tumbled
Since I rose, and I'm not thinking well, I think,
But I can't return home without her. 'Can
You drive me? ' 'Yes, I can, but I must know
Before we leave. You seem to suffer
Consternation. Is it germs or me? '
poem by Lawrence Beck
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Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
So let me think,
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
poem by David daveres
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A Terre (being the philosophy of many soldiers)
Sit on the bed. I'm blind, and three parts shell.
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
Both arms have mutinied against me,-brutes.
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats.
I tried to peg out soldierly,-no use!
One dies of war like any old disease.
This bandage feels like pennies on my eyes.
I have my medals?-Discs to make eyes close.
My glorious ribbons?-Ripped from my own back
In scarlet shreds. (That's for your poetry book.)
A short life and a merry one, my buck!
We used to say we'd hate to live dead-old,-
Yet now...I'd willingly be puffy, bald,
And patriotic. Buffers catch from boys
At least the jokes hurled at them. I suppose
Little I'd ever teach a son, but hitting,
Shooting, war, hunting, all the arts of hurting.
Well, that's what I learnt,-that, and making money.
Your fifty years ahead seem none too many?
Tell me how long I've got? God! For one year
To help myself to nothing more than air!
One Spring! Is one too good to spare, too long?
Spring wind would work its own way to my lung,
And grow me legs as quick as lilac-shoots.
My servant's lamed, but listen how he shouts!
When I'm lugged out, he'll still be good for that.
Here in this mummy-case, you know, I've thought
How well I might have swept his floors for ever.
I'd ask no nights off when the bustle's over,
Enjoying so the dirt. Who's prejudiced
Against a grimed hand when his own's quite dust,
Less live than specks that in the sun-shafts turn,
Less warm than dust that mixes with arms' tan?
I'd love to be a sweep, now, black as Town,
Yes, or a muckman. Must I be his load?
O Life, Life, let me breathe,-a dug-out rat!
Not worse than ours the lives rats lead-
Nosing along at night down some safe rut,
They find a shell-proof home before they rot.
Dead men may envy living mites in cheese,
Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys,
And subdivide, and never come to death.
Certainly flowers have the easiest time on earth.
'I shall be one with nature, herb, and stone'
Shelley would tell me. Shelley would be stunned:
The dullest Tommy hugs that fancy now.
'Pushing up daisies' is their creed, you know.
To grain, then, go my fat, to buds my sap,
For all the usefulness there is in soap.
D'you think the Boche will ever stew man-soup?
Some day, no doubt, if...Friend, be very sure
I shall be better off with plants that share
More peaceably the meadow and the shower.
Soft rains will touch me,-as they could touch once,
And nothing but the sun shall make me ware.
Your guns may crash around me. I'll not hear;
Or, if I wince, I shall not know I wince.
Don't take my soul's poor comfort for your jest.
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds,
But here's the thing's best left at home with friends.
My soul's a little grief, grappling your chest,
To climb your throat on sobs; easily chased
On other sighs and wiped by fresher winds.
Carry my crying spirit till it's weaned
To do without what blood remained these wounds.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Handshakes
The joining of hands compels one to be a bridge
That is built in a day;
These germs are your germs
Inhabiting the monster’s skin.
But lying is an old habit,
To trust is to better understand fellow-men.
I join and handshake whenever needed,
Buzzing my mouth with applause
And compliment.
One bridge is enough for the shoulders to bear,
A monstrous bridge is a catastrophe
For you lack understanding of the bridges.
A simple handshake does dirt to the actions
Whilst their friendship is doomed.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Germs
Sometimes I really want to be alone
But thats one state Im never in
Because I know that Ive got millions upon millions
Of tiny, one-celled organisms living on my skin
(germs) I rub and scrub until my flesh is raw and bleeding
(germs) but they just come right back
(germs) I cant even see em, but I know theyre up to something
Hey, dont touch that - you dont know where its been
Theyre all over me
Theyre inside of me
Cant get em offa me
Im covered with ... microscopic bacteria
What do they want from me
Whatll they do to me
Theres no escape for me
Im crawling with ... microscopic bacteria
Now if I ever dare to go to sleep
Thats when they start their sneak attack
In the morning I wake up in utter horror
To find my teeth are covered with bacterial plaque
(germs) cant get those parasitic creatures off my face
(germs) and theres more comin every day
(germs) I never said that they could camp out on my body
I wish theyd pack their tiny little bags and move away
Theyre all over me
Theyre inside of me
Cant get em offa me
Im covered with ... microscopic bacteria
What do they want from me
Whatll they do to me
Theres no escape for me
Im crawling with ... microscopic bacteria
Theyre creepin around my shorts
Theyre under the bathroom sink
Theyre ridin inside my car
Theyre swimmin in my drink
Theyre hidin between my toes
Theyre lurkin in every kiss
I got em way up my nose
In every orafice
Im gonna show them whos boss
Im gonna get even yet
Just gimme some lysol spray
Just hand me a moist towelette
Dont tell me Im paranoid
I know that theyre after me
Look under the microscope
See? ?
Theyre all over me
Theyre inside of me
Cant get em offa me
Im covered with ... microscopic bacteria
What do they want from me
Whatll they do to me
Theres no escape for me
Im crawling with ... microscopic bacteria
Theyre all over me
I can feel em all over me
Over every part of me
Microscopic bacteria
I know theyre watching me
Theyre always watching me
Theyre coming after me
Microscopic bacteria
Wont somebody help me
Please somebody help me
Youve got to believe me
Theyre out to get me
They wanna control me
They wanna destroy me
Theyre tryin to kill me
It kind of upsets me
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Terre
(Being the philosophy of many Soldiers.)
Sit on the bed; I'm blind, and three parts shell,
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
Both arms have mutinied against me -- brutes.
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats.
I tried to peg out soldierly -- no use!
One dies of war like any old disease.
This bandage feels like pennies on my eyes.
I have my medals? -- Discs to make eyes close.
My glorious ribbons? -- Ripped from my own back
In scarlet shreds. (That's for your poetry book.)
A short life and a merry one, my brick!
We used to say we'd hate to live dead old, --
Yet now . . . I'd willingly be puffy, bald,
And patriotic. Buffers catch from boys
At least the jokes hurled at them. I suppose
Little I'd ever teach a son, but hitting,
Shooting, war, hunting, all the arts of hurting.
Well, that's what I learnt, -- that, and making money.
Your fifty years ahead seem none too many?
Tell me how long I've got? God! For one year
To help myself to nothing more than air!
One Spring! Is one too good to spare, too long?
Spring wind would work its own way to my lung,
And grow me legs as quick as lilac-shoots.
My servant's lamed, but listen how he shouts!
When I'm lugged out, he'll still be good for that.
Here in this mummy-case, you know, I've thought
How well I might have swept his floors for ever,
I'd ask no night off when the bustle's over,
Enjoying so the dirt. Who's prejudiced
Against a grimed hand when his own's quite dust,
Less live than specks that in the sun-shafts turn,
Less warm than dust that mixes with arms' tan?
I'd love to be a sweep, now, black as Town,
Yes, or a muckman. Must I be his load?
O Life, Life, let me breathe, -- a dug-out rat!
Not worse than ours the existences rats lead --
Nosing along at night down some safe vat,
They find a shell-proof home before they rot.
Dead men may envy living mites in cheese,
Or good germs even. Microbes have their joys,
And subdivide, and never come to death,
Certainly flowers have the easiest time on earth.
"I shall be one with nature, herb, and stone."
Shelley would tell me. Shelley would be stunned;
The dullest Tommy hugs that fancy now.
"Pushing up daisies," is their creed, you know.
To grain, then, go my fat, to buds my sap,
For all the usefulness there is in soap.
D'you think the Boche will ever stew man-soup?
Some day, no doubt, if . . .
Friend, be very sure
I shall be better off with plants that share
More peaceably the meadow and the shower.
Soft rains will touch me, -- as they could touch once,
And nothing but the sun shall make me ware.
Your guns may crash around me. I'll not hear;
Or, if I wince, I shall not know I wince.
Don't take my soul's poor comfort for your jest.
Soldiers may grow a soul when turned to fronds,
But here the thing's best left at home with friends.
My soul's a little grief, grappling your chest,
To climb your throat on sobs; easily chased
On other sighs and wiped by fresher winds.
Carry my crying spirit till it's weaned
To do without what blood remained these wounds.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Fear
I see you looking over your shoulder
Tell me who do you think's out there
You're reaching for your four leaf clover
But baby there ain't no luck down there
I swear that there's no heart in this city
It's here the slogan reads "Do your time" everybody's doing their sentence
It's just there ain't nobody here
Who knows just what's the crime
I watched my father live a lie here
I'd rather die than fade away
I read the rules
And yeah I know them
Still you ain't ever gonna
Make me play the game of Fear Fear Fear Fear
Running with the rats
Through the city
Makes you feel like you're a partner in crime
Girl once you won't stop to watch
That little girl did
Hey baby won't you stop and hear me
Just being here we're breathing heart attacks
We can run and chase
The setting sun we can run
And we won't ever look back
Take my hand I know we'll make it
I'll let nothing slow us down I know you want to curse
This place but there's only
One thing that's stopping us now
Fear fear fear Of a new thing Fear fear fear
Of the brass ring
You ain't one for taking chances
You work and live and breathe that 9 to 5
Still that's what you call living
That's surviving to me
And surviving is living to die in
Fear
song performed by by Bon Jovi from Keep The Faith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Calm was the even, and clear was the sky
Calm was the even, and clear was the sky,
And the new budding flowers did spring,
When all alone went Amyntas and I
To hear the sweet nightingale sing;
I sate, and he laid him down by me;
But scarcely his breath he could draw;
For when with a fear, he began to draw near,
He was dash'd with A ha ha ha ha!
He blush'd to himself, and lay still for a while,
And his modesty curb'd his desire;
But straight I convinc'd all his fear with a smile,
Which added new flames to his fire.
O Silvia, said he, you are cruel,
To keep your poor lover in awe;
Then once more he press'd with his hand to my breast,
But was dash'd with A ha ha ha ha!
I knew 'twas his passion that caus'd all his fear;
And therefore I pitied his case:
I whisper'd him softly, there's nobody near,
And laid my cheek close to his face:
But as he grew bolder and bolder,
A shepherd came by us and saw;
And just as our bliss we began with a kiss,
He laugh'd out with A ha ha ha ha!
poem by John Dryden
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The Germ
I took to khaki at a word,
And fashioned dreams of wonder.
I rode the great sea like a bird,
Chock full of blood and thunder.
I saw myself upon the field
Of battle, framed in glory,
Compelling stubborn foes to yield
As captives to my sword and shield—
This is another story.
We sat about in sun and sand,
We broke old Cairo's images,
Met here and there a swarthy band
In little, friendly scrimmages,
And here it is I start to kid
No Moslem born can hit me.
The Germ then that had long laid hid
Came out of Pharaoh's pyramid,
And covertly he bit me.
For some few days I wore an air
Of pensive introspection,
And then I curled down anywhere.
They whispered of infection,
And hoist me on two sticks as though
I bore the leper's label,
And took me where, all in a row
Of tiny beds, two score or so
Were raising second Babel;
But no man talked to any one.
And no bloke knew another.
This soldier raved about his gun,
And that one of his mother.
They were the victims of the Germ,
The imp that Satan pricks in,
First cousin to the Coffin Worm,
Whose uncomputed legions squirm
Some foul, atomic Styx in.
The Germ rides with the plunging shell,
Or on the belts that fret you,
Or in a speck of dust may well
One thousand years to get you;
Well ambushed in a tunic fold
He waits his special mission,
And never lad so big and bold
But turns to water in his hold
And dribbles to perdition.
Where is war's pomp and circumstance,
The gauds in which we prank it?
Germ ends for us our fine romance,
Wrapped in a dingy blanket.
We set out braggartly in mirth,
World's bravest men and tallest,
To do the mightiest thing on earth,
And here we're lying, nothing worth,
Succumbent to the smallest!
poem by Edward George Dyson
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An Admonition
Don't live your life in fear
Of dread calamity
There's much joy for you here
Instead be of good cheer
And this will set you free
Don't live your life in fear
The way ahead is clear
Attention is the key
There's much joy for you here
Great beauty will appear
All those who seek will see
Don't live your life in fear
No need to shed a tear
No need for self-pity
There's much joy for you here
Your happiness is near
It's who you're meant to be
Don't live you life in fear
There's much joy for you here
poem by Michelle Louise Willis
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I Do Not Fear
I do not fear big cats or snakes or dangerous crocodile
Between where I live and they live are many a mile
Those I fear the most to me live very near
'Tis only my own species I need to fear.
I do not fear sharks or the dangerous hippo
To anywhere near where they live I never go
The species I fear most I see every day
I fear my own kind does that seem bold to say?
I do not fear venomous spiders though of them I beware
And I surely do not fear the feared polar bear
Since they live in the Artic that's far north of here
No 'tis only my own kind that I've reason to fear.
The elephant and the rhino in zoos I only see
They are not renowned killers they do not bother me
And why should I fear the dead or the dead person's ghost?
'Tis the living of my own kind that I do fear most.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Aunt's Murder
She was a gentle elderly lady
Who was always helping everyone, not shady
She tended to the sick and gave to the poor
She loved all so much, she was so pure
She had a cat, she loved so much
That was always in her lap, in her clutch
She left the garage door, cracked opened each day
She never worried about being another's prey
One day on the couch, she sat reading a book
When in her garage door entered a crook
She screamed and she cried, 'What are you doing here? '
He grabbed her by the throat and she was in great fear
He stayed and tortured her for so many hours
She was so overcome by his strenght and powers
I feel great sorrow as I write this story
Her murder was mother's day, much to his glory
I was at her trial, November of last year
And since her death, I've shed many a tear
He sat there glaring at us so proud
The picture's we saw, shouldn't have been allowed
I felt rage and grief and stared back at him
I hoped his outcome would be real grim
He said he was guilty when the judge asked how he pled
It took four days for the verdict to be read
I held my breath, while I awaited the sentence
I knew death should have been his pentence
The jury, they couldn't come to decision
The judge decided it would be life in prison
In Texas, that's not a long sentence to pay
You can get out in forty years, not another day
It was capitol murder and he should have got death
I will see he stay's in prison, till I take my last breath
The picture's that they showed, are etched in my mind
This animal shouldn't live among mankind
She is in heaven now, living with my mother
At least once more, they have one another!
poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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