my sweet old etcetera <br />aunt lucy during the recent <br /> <br />war could and what <br />is more did tell you just <br />what everybody was fighting <br /> <br />for, <br />my sister <br /> <br />Isabel created hundreds <br />(and <br />hundreds)of socks not to <br />mention fleaproof earwarmers <br />etcetera wristers etcetera, my <br />mother hoped that <br /> <br />i would die etcetera <br />bravely of course my father used <br />to become hoarse talking about how it was <br />a privilege and if only he <br />could meanwhile my <br /> <br />self etcetera lay quietly <br />in the deep mud et <br /> <br />cetera <br />(dreaming, <br />et <br />cetera, of <br />Your smile <br />eyes knees and of your Etcetera)<br /><br />Edward Estlin Cummings<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-sweet-old-etcetera/
