Wednesday, December 09, 2015

my niece, my noodle, my little plum

In the middle of the night, I woke up with bad poetry dedicated to my niece Ruby dancing in my being. How I love the little dove. I love my niece-y noodle more than I love apple strudel. My nee-nu, my zagnut, my chocolate chew. I love her I love her I love her I do.

It all sounded a lot better at 4 a.m.

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