C.C.:

By C_C_T - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Wednesday, May 12, 2021

He made little paper cups inside were grains of corn. The pheasants from the grand Estate would roam in the dawn. Yet to be wary of the yearly traditional grand shoot. For which they were bred and the old chap who was astute. They pecked at the corn inside the cones and it became dark for the corn... Sign in to see full entry.

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