December 23rd, 2008


(no subject)

My friend C's six year-old bullied me into writing a poem yesterday in five minutes. Here goes...


The moon is like a Stilton,
Big and cheesy and round.
I think he's got his kilt on,
but I can't see from the ground.

I think I might travel up there,
Just to see what I can see,
But I'm afraid of what I might find there,
In case it's swinging free.

(C suggested the kilt rhyme, she wanted it made clear).