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Son (Prose Poem) by The Bard
Small eyes tightly closed wrinked shut through the night. Resting up for the morning delight. Warm smells kind of sweet. Small little hands and soft wee feet. Lips pursed with a bubbling blow. Each breath a wonder I can see him grow. Running along he sprawls awry. Knees skinned, beginning to cry. Lip all a quiver breath short and fast. He lets out a wail, But it does not last. Swung high and tickled, he forgets his pain. Soon he is running and scooting again. I hold him up he pedals in a hurry. Soon he will ride alone leaving Da to worry. Light on the clutch, easy in the gas. You're just learning Son, no need to go fast. Oh she's a lovely girl, are you sure you are ready? Why not give it some time, keep her your steady? How handsome you are How lovely your bride! What a sight you make, Standing side by side. Small eyes tightly closed wrinked shut through the night. Oh Son don't go It's not your fight! Warm smells kind of sweet. But Da, it's all my friends all from our street. Lips pursed with a bubbling blow. But Son, it's a lie Please, please don't go. Running along he sprawls awry. Will his Daddy come home? I start to cry. Lip all a quiver breath short and fast. His life before me is slowly passed. Swung high and tickled, he forgets his pain. Yet mine is beginning, will I see him again? I hold him up he pedals in a hurry. Christmas will be bleak And none will be merry. Light on the clutch, easy in the gas. Oh Son be careful, make your life last. Oh she's a lovely girl, are you sure you are ready? Da will you come over? They're coming, I think it's Eddie. How handsome you were How lovely your bride! What a tragic sight, With a coffin at her side.

Up the ladder: I want my money back
Down the ladder: Green

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Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
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Arithmetic Mean: 7.0
Weighted score: 5.094852
Overall Rank: 6184
Posted: October 13, 2009 8:36 PM PDT; Last modified: October 13, 2009 8:36 PM PDT
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