A little springtime poem my father used to repeat to us all the time. We won't let him say it any more.
Spring is sprung
The grass is riz
I wonder where the birdies is?
Now you know why we won't let him say it anymore. Actually, there are alot of things we won't let him say anymore; but, that's another blog.
Anyway, when you go to bed tonight, turn your clock forward one hour. Yes, friends, this the night the sleep fairy comes and steals one precious hour of sleep. On the positive side, our evenings will be longer.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment