15.03.2010 / 21.28 pm
 
by Patrick Winstanley
Rating: 2.89
Votes: 9
I sit atop your Christmas tree,
All clad in pink, a real fairy.
The reason I appear to smirk,
The sprig of spruce stuck up my skirt.

Rate this poem: 1 2 3 4 5








Forgot you password?