it's Thursday! here, have some poetry
puff goes the pipe or was that the chimney? Either way, home's filled up with smoke did she light it on fire that devilish arson or was she merely trying to keep warm she's lit a match and now tried to detach from everything left in her wake then it's off to bed where dreams fill her head is she evil or merely a person puff, puff goes the little train engine, or was that just exhaust from the car? With a puff of the chest, oh jesst give it a rest We can't all breathe deeply just yet almost there, think i can, says little engine just need a little more coal up the bend, round the mountain she'll soon find the fountain of cliches that just never end should she dare hope or is she still in Neverland she's told in class what she meant was the Netherlands either way, she longs for the sky was home a-fire all along? she isn't quite shore for she dreams of the beach and sea shells galore my lands, aren't they so pretty give it some wit or perhaps some grit elbow grease is all in the wrist