Justina
It was summer in the back end of nowhere, There were horses and houses all around, She pulled on her sneakers and was running, Just as soon as her feet hit the ground. Pretty soon, she had a job in a book store, Loading Dickens and Tolstoy on the shelf, She discovered the works of Jack Kerouac, But she never discovered herself. Then she met Spring Bob by the duck pond, He was small, but he carried a big sack, Full of blankets and pillows for the hostel on the green, And the collected works of Honoré de Balzac. He … Continue reading Justina
