Michael Morris Poems
|6.||Thoughts Of Home||1/15/2006|
|10.||A Candid Appeal To Bill Mitton||1/7/2006|
|14.||Tongue In Cheek||2/11/2006|
|15.||Cold Apple Pie||1/15/2006|
|17.||Thank You, Edgar||1/12/2006|
|22.||An Abandoned Church||1/12/2006|
Comments about Michael Morris
There was a young lady called Grace
And she had a beautiful face
When she went for a run
In the park for some fun
She always came first in the race.
There was a young lady called Maddy
Who hid her cash in a tea caddy
But when Christmas came round
She’d not even a pound
‘Cause she’d lent all her dough to her Daddy
There was a young fellow called Louis
Who would never eat anything chewy
When he went for a take out
In spots he would break out
Unless he could have some chop suey
In morning's early hours
When books pall
And reverie drifts in,
I think, at times,
Of my forebears.
My parent's parent's parents.
Did they think of me?
Through Time's tunnel