Margrit
https://www.goodreads.com/aydensnona
“Are wild strawberries really wild?
Will they scratch an adult, will they snap at a child?
Should you pet them, or let them run free where they roam?
Could they ever relax in a steam-heated home?
Can they be trained to not growl at the guests?
Will a litterbox work or would they make a mess?
Can we make them a Cowberry, herding the cows,
or maybe a Muleberry pulling the plows,
or maybe a Huntberry chasing the grouse,
or maybe a Watchberry guarding the house,
and though they may curl up at your feet oh so sweetly
can you ever feel that you trust them completely?
Or should we make a pet out of something less scary,
like the Domestic Prune or the Imported Cherry,
Anyhow, you've been warned and I will not be blamed
if your Wild Strawberries cannot be tamed.”
― Where the Sidewalk Ends
Will they scratch an adult, will they snap at a child?
Should you pet them, or let them run free where they roam?
Could they ever relax in a steam-heated home?
Can they be trained to not growl at the guests?
Will a litterbox work or would they make a mess?
Can we make them a Cowberry, herding the cows,
or maybe a Muleberry pulling the plows,
or maybe a Huntberry chasing the grouse,
or maybe a Watchberry guarding the house,
and though they may curl up at your feet oh so sweetly
can you ever feel that you trust them completely?
Or should we make a pet out of something less scary,
like the Domestic Prune or the Imported Cherry,
Anyhow, you've been warned and I will not be blamed
if your Wild Strawberries cannot be tamed.”
― Where the Sidewalk Ends
“If you are a dreamer come in
If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer
If youre a pretender com sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden tales to spin
Come in!
Come in!”
―
If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer
If youre a pretender com sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden tales to spin
Come in!
Come in!”
―
“Once i spoke the language of the flowers,Once i undrestand each word the caterpillar said,Once i smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,”
―
―
“My skin is kind of sort of brownish pinkish yellowish white. My eyes are greyish blueish green, but I'm told they look orange in the night. My hair is reddish blondish brown, but its silver when its wet, and all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.”
― Where the Sidewalk Ends
― Where the Sidewalk Ends
Margrit’s 2025 Year in Books
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