Each night father fills me with dread As he sits at the foot of my bed I don’t mind that he speaks In gibbers and squeaks But for seventeen years he’s been dead. – Edward Gorey Related Posts: – The Gashlycrumb… Read More ›
Each night father fills me with dread As he sits at the foot of my bed I don’t mind that he speaks In gibbers and squeaks But for seventeen years he’s been dead. – Edward Gorey Related Posts: – The Gashlycrumb… Read More ›