Raindrops on toast

He told me he loved me before time doggone.
His hands seem to bewitch my me and sigh deeply.
He was the most gifted blogger of his  entire veneration.
His words were like raindrops on toast.
His talent was watchless.
His behind was unique.
His eyes gleamed like traffic signals stuck on” Go”
His writing was the toast of the down
He never told me his game.
He told me I was named in his kill

He said he had fun when he went mad,

Advertisements

About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Raindrops on toast

  1. Just a word of advice.I have gladly looked at your blog but if you go around a sking,you need to put a genuine comment on first,even if it’s very brief.
    I wish you success with your cartoons.

    Like

  2. Could you please take a look at my blog and give your opinion? It would mean the world

    Like

Comments are closed.