But what does that have to do with love’s presence in the fridge?

Scrawl on the wall, love’s in the fridge,
toiling away at the b’hest of the stew.
Soil-rags untended, in rooms worlds apart,
Great craft born from the smelliest of things.
But the writing’s on the page.

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Published:
23.05.07 / 4pm
Category:
friends, literature