Mercy P K Routray A beggar on a street corner, no warm cloth in cold winter, taking shelter under the trees in summer sleeping in night on foot path without fear,
After 20,644 seductions, Beto remained a virgin. What was worse, he’d never even kissed a woman’s lips. Pathetic. Maybe Vanessa would make a man of him today, he could only hope.
In conversations, your words stand still absorbing syllables at dinner under chandeliers that shed prisms of candlelight upon factory woven threads of linen while waiters serve
The Fairy and the Star were having an argument. They both wanted to be on top of the Christmas tree, you see.
The lights dimmed slowly and the auction began. I sat quietly, looking around as everyone at the tables took out a small notebook and pen. The people seated in the chairs did the same.
Craven Danger took a seat on the number six downtown train and fiddled with his ukulele. “Are you gonna sing to your reindeer?” said a little girl sitting opposite.
Remember December the 27th. That’s Santa’s Birthday, you know, when the elves and reindeers give HIM presents and a cake with candles that glow and they all play Birthday party games
There's cards that sparkle and cards that sing , God knows there's cards with everything .
Are you wearing a bunch of mistletoe? Well you certainly mean business
In the early morning hours, words fall like snow against all of the impossibilities,. Church bells ring. Its 2 a.m. Odd how the hours find the memories of frost and keats.