Five Fingers Old

Across the grassy field

the hand puppet strolled

musing to himself

that he must be five fingers old

But what if the thumb

was worth a few more

maybe even

a nice round score

Musing further

twenty four

bloody hell

he happily swore

My Poetry

Simple Pilgrim View All →

Once Lost in Nowhere, then Perditus

Now just a Simple Pilgrim

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