Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Children at Play

Children of the day play two;
This past is so clean their future.
Majority if not some, n' did not have one.
Even while on the carpet we sit down.
It always speaking, how I l' liked.
I could only nor was envisaged with but listening.
its legs qu' it placed upwards and above mine.
It would increase its skirt then upwards,
upwards and to the top of around its size.
Reason of this qu' she simply said;
amused and laughing out loud.
and not, I l' did not help her, could not hear.
She always used these wrinkled breeches.
These breeches with gimlets,
always very gently not seen.
breeches and of much of being diffracted colors.
Mine being blue, his always pink.
Its legs above mine, she would take my hand.
As it helped its individual with it.
Beneeth its legs not taking any in consideration it.
when its breeches were white,
I could see well by them.
N' made its breeches forever get clear.
Although its face was also smooth qu' a mine of fishing.
qu' was also red; a beet.
Jusqu' with this qu' it l' touched.

Submitted: Monday, January 04, 2010
Edited: Monday, January 04, 2010
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