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Archive for July 5th, 2007

Anton Billet

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One a tiny farm one Thursday morn
worked little Anton Billet
He started at dawn
after he put his shoes on
and plowed his father’s fields every May
Early in the day a glint caught his eye
and Anton looked over to see
there he saw gold
under a tree that was old
and surrounded by shafts of tall reeds
So he cut and he swiped
and he cleared the reeds away
and over the gold he did hover, breathing
frozen by a note from his father, reading
“Get back to work, little Anton Billet!”


Written by taj

July 5, 2007 at 11:24 am

Posted in Poems