She Left Her Umbrella Poem by Paul Bryan Friedman
She Left Her Umbrella
Rating: ★2.0
This paradise will never be the same.
The salon is upstairs, on the second floor. You can't miss it.
If I were younger
and no one told me about
days like these,
I'd sing a doo-wah-ditty-dum-diddy, too.
I'm not
and offers of succor come to late.
Help, I need somebody
not anybody.
I need
someone, too
please, woo.
Thursday, January 2, 2003
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5/5/2024 11:03:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
