Truly, there is no one other
Whom I love more than you, mother.
And, well, you know I'm sorry, mom
that this wasn't written with more aplomb.
You've taught me what's right and you've taught me what's wrong.
Now this is the poem you get, (just cuz I can't write a song.)
Happy Birthday, MOM. Yes, it looks correct on the date...
but those in the know will realize it's a tad late.
(Sorry!)
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...