He saw me flatten paper cups
To write on them some poetry,
And pointed at the writing pad
They keep beside the pottery.
Along its perforated neck
I tore a paper, bit by bit,
And with forgotten instinct made
An Origami cup of it.
He saw me flatten paper cups
To write on them some poetry,
And pointed at the writing pad
They keep beside the pottery.
Along its perforated neck
I tore a paper, bit by bit,
And with forgotten instinct made
An Origami cup of it.
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