Poor Packers of the Stoney Pond

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Frivolous of me to say,
Poor packers of the stoney pond.

That lightened whispers will some day,
Free you of your acidic bond.

Please walk lightly while you may,
French strudle of the meagre, conned.

I'll tell then again someday,
Of stories, legends, true and fond.



What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.
— J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye