Stopping by an Open Thread on a Summer Evening
Whose plums these are I think I know.
He left them in the icebox, though
He should have known we’d be by here
To eat them, with a chilled Bordeaux.
The plum guy’s from the Fluorosphere;
Thus ought to know the things that we’re
Prepared to do before the dawn
And that those plums might disappear.
It’s hungry work to stay logged on.
Thus, when the tea and scones are gone,
We gnomes steal in on silent feet
To eat those plums beside the lawn.
The plums are tasty, dark and sweet,
But I have spam I must delete
And one more chapter to complete
And one more chapter to complete.
Continued in Open Thread 176