IP 200 words.

A short story without any idea of the future.

There is nothing of interest in this poem.

finished

DR PESASTRA’S DISASTER Dr Pesastra was in a muddle. He had run out of bandages to bandage his patients’ fingers and thumbs.

Dance, dance little spirit On a line of a silken web Like strings on a glass guitar And pluck notes of sleep

Just some of things that with hindsight, I found amusing about the three weeks that I spent in a mental hospital in 2001

In distant lands there once did dwell, A captured princess all forlorn, In hidden towers locked away, From eyes of man both dusk’til dawn. Her beauty captivated men, Her radiance so pure,