Instrumental Poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Instrumental
The palm of my hands slaps on the table
Sounding as the beat of a drum
My lips pucker to whistle
I am really feeling this strum
My feet begin to tap the floor
It really kinds fun
To use your body
As a instrument
While being refresh and energy renewed
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: fun
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8/19/2026 2:15:15 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
