I should like to be a horse,
So long as it’s a paint, of course.
Flying riderless across the plain,
Wind tickling my flowing mane.
Splashing through shallow river bends,
Thundering along with all my friends.
Yes, a horse is what I’d be,
If the choice were up to me.
The way I figure it, Tiny, is that if we take that piece of bacon you pinched from the giant’s plate and toss drag it over to the fuzzy floor, the dog will s...
There was only one bus in town and I missed the last run, its taillights taunting me with the faint spray from the wet wheels.
Heaven didn’t want the maiming boy
Prickly pointy spikes
