deponti (deponti) wrote,

  • Music:


Today, most unusually, Biddles fussed, and fussed, and fussed...I think the milk was NOT to her liking....I have not had a minute all day, and I am tired! write-worthy thoughts occur to me, except the attraction of that bed upstairs...but she's smiling up at me so sweetly and cooing...

I need to record these epitaphs:

Here lies John Bunn
He was killed by a gun
His name was not Bunn, but Wood..
But Wood would not rhyme with "gun"..
And "Bunn" would.


Here lies a man who was killed by lightning
He died when his prospects seemed to be brightening.
He might have cut a flash in this world of trouble...
But the flash cut him....and he lies in the stubble.
Tags: babies, epitaphs, poetry, sleep, verse

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