Cinnamon Dreams Poem by Sandra Osborne

Allan, don't you think that, between the two of us (not physically, I am not one of those) we could come up with something solid that wouldn't collapse in the next wind caused by a whisper or a branch of the weeping willow? I think if we overstate our age AND use a bit of smoke and mirrors, throw in a couple of poems and soak ourselves in giant tubs of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo before. Gotta impress these talented sheilas. H

gIRLS COULD YOU SEND ME A CRATE OF CINNAMON, I HAVE TO LOOK AFTER MY SEX DRIVE, I CANT KEEP UP WITH THOSE 40 YEAR OLDS THE FIRST THING I ASK THEM ARE THEY AGRESSIVE ENOUGH IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN wARM REGARDS THE YOUNG FELLOW AJS

What about cinnamon loaves, with raisins. A nice bottle of red, sitting by the fireplace, listening to Charles Aznavour and the rustling of the chiffon. You could 'sprinkle' a good measure of eggnog on top and watch the snow come down. Nice pleasant poem, will sweep the cobwebs away. H