Out on the mudflat, mulling over mudthings. The tide is about to turn. Hitch up your pants and head for the beach.
(On the way to school this morning.)
UPDATE: Stanza addded by Pookie (see comments).
Like soldiers are,they're in a line.I dearly hopethey make it home.
Second stanza:Like soldiers are,they're in a line.I dearly hopethey make it home.(By pookie, while eating a ham sandwich.)
Thanks. Call it "intra-generational collaborative poetry" and V and I can start our own journal (to be entitled "V and I"). Most academic journals have, say, 3 or 4 regular readers worldwide anyhoo, right?
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