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Mosquito’s Fart
There
are moments when
We try to cram hours worth
Of things to be done,
Things, that if one were
To drop dead this instant
Would be meaningless,
Would be gone and forgotten
As fast as a mosquito’s
Fart in a windstorm,
Yet even knowing this
We do them anyway,
Until now that is,
When things start to cram
Into those moments
I am going to stop and
Think about you,
I am going to call you,
Hell,
I may even stop by,
If someone doesn’t like it
I will talk to them about
A mosquito’s fart in a windstorm.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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