Bread lines

September 12, 2011
in Category: blog, poem
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Its the dough, rolled out in a long limb of slim design, designed to rise deep in an oven of eventuality, actually the line is drawn with milk along the top that browns in the oven, hot, baked, bread ready to eat, rest your feet in front of the fire as the final minutes pass by and wheat smells point right down into lungs hungry for the chomp of odour

dex

Cassette connoisseur

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