What do we do with a passed out Corgi? What do we do with a passed out Corgi? What do we do with a passed out Corgi? Early in the morning
By McKenzie McQuade2 years ago in Poets
The trees They live in this forest They whisper they breathe Wanderers can speak to the leaves Often times seeking advice
By McKenzie McQuade3 years ago in Poets
Never have I ever chose a love so fine As that day I chose to call you mine Sunny was that day I picked you up at Tractor Supply
Along the river bank did I not spot any of the mischievious hares But still something lay Something still, fuzzy, and small
I've never been able to do anything subtle If I want something I'm going to get it or set it on fire That's just my personality
To the owner of this little coffee shop with happy little pugs printed on your dine in ceramic mugs I know you don’t know this
My luck’s run out at the end of the rainbow Visions and dreams of coins with shimmering golden sheens keep me from giving up the search though
Dear Coffee Shop Barista, May haps I ask your name or instead tragically assume your name is Theresa Just in the same fashion regardless of you asking for mine
Heart thumping as I nervously scribble on my Starbucks' napkins: Darling, I do hope you fall in love with my prose. For I do believe you are far prettier than any rose.
By McKenzie McQuade4 years ago in Poets
Boldly you held out your hand with the sweetest of treats Graciously I lapped from your palm Unsuspecting of the one hidden behind your back
The last place I had traveled was the Land of Fire Rumors spread tales of glorious blazing birds perched upon tall stone spires
There’s trouble in the forest Where the wolf pups play In between the trees Down in the holes with the predator’s prey
