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On shallow straw, in shadeless glass,
Huddled by empty bowls, they sleep:
No dark, no dam, no earth, no grass -
Mam, get us one of them to keep.
Living toys are something novel,
But it soon wears off somehow.
Fetch the shoebox, fetch the shovel -
Mam, we're playing funerals now.
(This is more or less a test entry, but I think I need to use my DW journal more often. After LJ's latest tinhattery, it seems more and more tempting. Also, it's kinda comfy.)
Huddled by empty bowls, they sleep:
No dark, no dam, no earth, no grass -
Mam, get us one of them to keep.
Living toys are something novel,
But it soon wears off somehow.
Fetch the shoebox, fetch the shovel -
Mam, we're playing funerals now.
(This is more or less a test entry, but I think I need to use my DW journal more often. After LJ's latest tinhattery, it seems more and more tempting. Also, it's kinda comfy.)