Gloria Cuttlebank Poem by Phil Soar

Gloria Cuttlebank



Gloria Cuttlebank lay awake and watched the spider make its web
It spun its thread along the wall, just above her head
She had a hate of creatures that she couldn't understand
And lay there rigid as a stone upon a barren land

Friday, July 31, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense
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