I wrote this on the back of a card I made for my Grannie, who had a minor heart attack recently. I don't see or write to her enough. Possibly because I'm busy doing other things that seem more important.
Making Lists
Things to buy
And things to do
And things to put
Inside my food
And films that I
would like to rent
And all the birth-
Days of my friends
And funny things
I mean to draw
And cities I
Would like to tour
And all the steps
For drawing graphs
(And other things
To do with maths)
And students who
Have misbehaved
Or tried their best
In class today
And when I really
Think it through
It's all I ever
Seem to do
A constant life
of making lists
Of this and that
And that and this
I always feel
The strangest need
When lists are not
Yet quite complete
No matter what
The list is for
To write just one
Thing, one thing more
Despite the lack
Of sense it makes
I feel compelled
To write down "CAKE"
True story. I always want to add "CAKE" to any list I make.
Link of the Day: It was STEW
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