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She oft praises the strokes of my pen Yet when her image comes into mind The words in my head run thin And my ink runs prematurely dry I have not written a thing worth mentioning For the girl with the cute button nose The hand clasped ‘round my pen begins fidgeting As my mind remembers her toes I stare blankly at pages of paper When my mind’s eye conjures her smile My cerebral wells start to taper Though my love for her flows as the Nile The beauty of her body is not justified in text So I will spare you the reading: her beauty is best
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Pickles, Perfected
She oft praises the strokes of my pen Yet when her image comes into mind The words in my head run thin And my ink runs prematurely dry I have not written a thing worth mentioning For the girl with the cute button nose The hand clasped ‘round my pen begins fidgeting As my mind remembers her toes I stare blankly at pages of paper When my mind’s eye conjures her smile My cerebral wells start to taper Though my love for her flows as the Nile The beauty of her body is not justified in text So I will spare you the reading: her beauty is best
eric-hormuth
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
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