In the night on the kitchen floor we would lie outstretched listening to the lonely ticking of a time
I think about her sometimes, when I least expect to do so. Opening the refridgerator; she would hurry there for the cold milk. In the back-door gardens of England; her black tail would be moving like a sneaky snake in the grass, eyes darting from bird to bee, to me.
A toast to perfection, may she live long and with her mischief reign.
A toast to perfection, may she live long and with her mischief reign.
Kommentarer
Postat av: Ida
är det lilla mischa månntro?
Postat av: Anonym
jaa den lille
Postat av: Bianca
:)
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