“Delicious strawberries!” the peddler cried
I smiled, knowing he lied:
Strawberries of this large a size
are always the hormones’ pride,
I thought and pressed on my way, when
a voice in my head whispered thus again:
“Representations in sound collude with sight,
no less with smell or touch or taste
t’assail the mind and smite one’s hopes with blight
in thoughtless actions due to haste, resulting to waste.”
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
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