Sticks & Stones - Poem by Dean Meredith
He gazed pharmaceutically out of the window
At a few thin sticks laying on the grass
And he imagined her nagging him
About moving them as soon as they fell
Rather than later
So he foolishly says
It’s only a few dead sticks
But that wasn’t what it was about
And he was a Neanderthal & a Philistine
What would a cave dwelling hermit know of the world?
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