Eight Line Poem

The tactful cactus by your window
Surveys the prairie of your room
The mobile spins to its collision
Clara puts her head between her paws
They've opened shops down West side
Will all the cacti find a home
But the key to the city
Is in the sun that pins the branches to the sky

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Daddy won't be home again for Christmas And I just hope that this little check will fit Daddy won't be home again for Christmas But maybe this will serve to let you know

This is the time of year we can give it, Give it, give it, give it all One through the note your list you can get it, Get it, get it, get it

Could you love somebody like that? Could you attract someone like that? Could you go where people can see someone like me? Could you do that? Would you face me? Make me listen to the

VERSE You got a face like the Madonna Crying tears of gold Been pumping gas At the Texaco road to road You're on the run Oh baby yeah you're on the run Oh baby I'm not a trick

So it was that everything That went to make up everything Was wrapped up tight inside a grain Of great insistence Then someone gave the great command All things paired off for the dance The great