Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Riddle Poem

When our mouths are full, we are travelers-
Plodding, crunching, marching through the days
With our tongues hanging out.
But alone we are only ornaments
Lying in wait, empty mouths
Patiently anticipating our next adventure.

Answer:
http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dhmpf4bw_6gg4hh8g8

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