The Johnny that lurks / Cabbage patch Johnny
My vocal chord will spin
Time woven by the gentle hand of Mother
Apple cores and may flies swoop
A gentleman fishing over yonder
Grasping his offspring tight
Yet grasping his rod tighter
In the distance a bicycle bell
Girls with grazed knees
Spitting on doc leaves
Flowers fail to grow today
The sun has died
Where did my diary go?
And who threw this condom over the fence?
poem by Mark Eyre
Added by Poetry Lover
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