Thursday, April 28, 2011

April Poem Seventeen

A strange kind of proselytizing
Is happening everywhere you look,
You turn around and there someone is
Sincerely recommending a book.

2 comments:

Vishvesh said...

:-)))...btw, noticed this was the only poem with the number written as a word.

Mukta Raut said...

:-))

499 of 534

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