The Hunting of the Snark and me|
We met one day for morning tea
Perching on a sofa wide
With my father by my side
Eight years old, still new to words,
I made friends with talking birds,
Ran screaming from the Jabberwock
Balanced on an outthrust rock
Looking out on Wonderland
Silver-covered book in hand
An epic in six fits - or eight?
Sitting by the blackened grate
Little Alice there with me
Reading over morning tea.
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