On the darkest night of
February,
twinkling stars adorned
the sky,
camping down on the
lane of burie,
Munching on blueberry
pie.
Morning, I went to
shop,
In a mall that was
totally a flop,
with people scurrying
here and there,
like a crowd of big,
white hares.
Evening was at the Mad
Hatter's tea party,
who sold delicious,
brown tea.
He served them on a
silver cup,
and everyone drank it
in one big gulp.
Nivetha
21-2-2012
21-2-2012
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