I was Slammin' with my sisters
In a special room,
With my fingers getting blisters
Spelling out my doom.
It's a place of mirth and sometimes gloom
(I found it this way)
But three Queens use thier magic broom
To sweep the grime away.
Into this room, I wrote one day,
Expecting not to win.
And when I did, there I chose to play
With a big'ole shiny grin.
You see, I don't have to have a cow, if I forget my pen,
In here, they heartily bloom.
In fact, they grow quite nice, and never ever thin,
In the glow of the Green Room!
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 2:07am on Dec 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.