GusRyer
A
DAY 16

A scythe may be tradition, see, although it takes so long.

A mower’s fast but gulps down gas
(gadzooks those fumes are strong!).

Row by row he comes and goes, and soon the grass is reaped,

‘Fore leaves come down—red, gold, brown—and winter brings its sleep.
#TibbyTime
09:15 PM - Oct 16, 2023
Avatar
0
0
1

 

{{ notificationModalContent }} {{ promptModalMessage }}