Sierra was reciting a poem she wrote and I kept trying to correct her. I can't remember the exact wording:
The Pots will wither in the room
best get them some sun
Flowers wither in the sun
best put them in the room
The flowers will wither
best get them some sun
Madison smoking cigarettes and cloyne was under inspection. In council we were debating turning cloyne into a commercial restaurant for better publicity or something. There were red checkered tablecloths on all the tables. Lots of empty cups.
Yesterday there was one about rags and teeth. Driving cars on the bottom of a lake. Boats on the top. Not boats, but jerry-rigged flotation contraptions. What a funny combination of words.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
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