Pierre, Remembered
Springtime in Paris, A life illuminating Ended by a horse
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Springtime in Paris, A life illuminating Ended by a horse
The little dog waits for his master to come, His belly is empty, his palette is numb. Oh, when will there be some food in
The cat woke up; all around him was black, His paws and his head really smarted. He felt on the verge of a panic attack,