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Thursday, March 24, 2011

Marraige Like death comes to us all

OK. I don't usually write stuff like this. I already know it's a terrible poem. I don't even think Where Poetry Goes To Die could do any worse. NO offence intened, of course.

A little wildflower
With cowboy boots and hat
No knowledge of tomorrow
She's a cowgirl, and that's that.

The only thing she needs
To keep her on her course
Is her trusted friend, her steed,
her sole companion, her horse.

Then comes that fatal day,
she looks into his eyes.
She won't know what to say
her freedom slowly dies.

A tall and handsome figure
with cowboy boots and hat
 That cowgirl's caught for sure;
By a cowboy, and that's that!

Now the only thing she needs,
To care for her and her horse,
Her, he loves, her heart, he keeps,
she loves her cowboy, of course!

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