There was a young man named Blewitt
Who stood on a hilltop in Druitt
He measured its height
And said with delight
It’s not a hill – it’s a mountain – I knew it!
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Published by sensualism
I love writing - poetry mainly, but the odd thought or story may find its way to the page as prose. I'd love to contribute to poetry and writing groups near my home by the sea but the dreaded clock seems to beat me most times. I do happen to contribute to https://cosmofunnel.com, a poetry website with 'panache'. Check it out for a different take on things.
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