glas

Here is one of my favorite love poems (re: your post about getting pictures of phalluses instead of love poems).  The formatting is always f'd on these comments but here goes, it is by Shel Silverstien and is called "Poor Angus": What do you do poor Angus/When hunger makes you cry?/I fix myself an omelet, sir,/Of fluffy clouds and sky//What do you wear poor Angus/When winds blow down the hills/I sew myself a warm cloak sir/Of hope and daffodils//Oh who do you love poor Angus/When Catherine's left the moor/Oh then sir then's the only time/I feel I'm really poor