Cloud of Rhyme
My rhyming steam roller sometimes hits a boulder and topples down into a gulch. With wheel to the shoulder, I sit and grow older. Sometimes brain fodder turns to mulch. An idea will goad, get … Read more
My rhyming steam roller sometimes hits a boulder and topples down into a gulch. With wheel to the shoulder, I sit and grow older. Sometimes brain fodder turns to mulch. An idea will goad, get … Read more