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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 15:19:16 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 111741
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Suntan
[time] => 2005-12-19 07:22:42
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The Suntan Café con leche por favour, she stammers. As the rain on the parasol hammers. She tut’s what’s the point of coming to Spain, I could have stayed in England if I’d have wanted rain. Her bag is full of suntan lotion, As she sits and stares at the dark black ocean. I only have, these seven days, I’m meant to be soaking up sunshine rays. To return home with a smooth mocha tan, Had been the much anticipated plan. But her skin still remains a brilliant white, Apart from the red of the mosquito bite. Still she writes her postcards saying, Wish you were here, With tales of night clubs and San Miguel beer. That her holiday was a wash out, They cannot know, So she’ll return with a tan all aglow. A scheme she plots, With a smile so serene, She’ll stop at the airport, And get on the tanning machine. XShmokinX [comments] => 3 [counter] => 551 [topic] => 7 [informant] => Shmokin [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )
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