The Summersault

When
The street
became icy
and slippery
I felt myself uneasy
But really it wasn't my fault
When like a lightning bolt
I made a summersault
so I got a squirt
became hurt
in the dirt.
No feat
Then.



Poetry by Carl O Andersson
Read 679 times
Written on 2007-03-29 at 12:40

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