Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.221.95.53

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

Char comes into my office with an angry face and stomping.
I know she is mad, for my throw pillow she is whomping.
I get her settle down, and we share a laugh or two.
If Mrs. McLead is around the corner, her ears are blue.

Ten seconds after Char is gone, McLead comes storming in.
There is a storm in her eyes, nasty in the set of her chin.
She gives me her side, and I listen without taking sides.
Adding nothing to the story that sounds nothing like Char Guides.

A third person enters in the afternoon and tells me what she saw.
Her accounting is as farfetched as the other two’s anger was so raw.
Now I understand why detectives are confused at every crime scene.
None of these tales resemble the one given to me by Jim Green.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required