Farmyard Antics 18 Poem by Phil Soar

Farmyard Antics 18



I strolled into a farmyard
My eyes were all aglow
I drank a little too much Gin
And words began to flow
The animals were mystified
As I stumbled about
I knocked upon the stable door
But everyone was out
I guess they had gone AWOL
As they'd seen me stagger round
And at six am next morning
I was nowhere to be found

Thursday, January 7, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense
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