Wed, 21 Jun 2023
| last modified Mon, 27 Oct 2025
poem feed (What is a feed?)
Time to talk about my tongue today,
Roaming round my mouth it stays,
Inspecting all the teeth it says,
Yet I just think it all day plays,
And often sits still and obeys,
When I just want to think away,
The maths problem on the pristine board,
That I shattered with my ordered numbers,
Just like this very rhyme, you say?
no previous poems written on this day.