Wednesday, October 1, 2008

The island of broken biscuits

Dashed to crumbs, my hopes and my dreams,
Where tropical colour’s not all that it seems,
Where reds and magentas turn beiges and creams,
Where crushing confectionery’s one of life’s themes,
And the water-wheel’s powered by fast-flowing streams,
And life appears normal out at the extremes,
On the island of broken biscuits.

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