It was Saturday morning. Toby was playing with his friends.
Toby wanted to fly the kite but Majid wouldn't let go of the string. "It's mine."
"Yeeha!" Peter shouted. Toby put his hands to his ears
...
[+]
me
one evening
in the city
of un-
known poets
we'll talk
not a word
of the turning
world
no
but win-
dows throw
open
and listen
to the unsung in
unison
beautifully
singing