Quote:
Originally Posted by catonyx
My bed is so cold.
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Mine has a small child in it  I am looking forward to having my own bed. I'm not looking forward to the battle to keep said small child out of it...
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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