Fletcher doesn't know what to do. What comfort can he offer a man he knows next to nothing about? This is Richard Somethingorother from Manhattan. He is a Wanderer. He had a cross, now he doesn't.
"When I was wee," Fletch says, moving to prop himself on the side of Richard's bed, "My mum would read me this poem whenever I was upset. I dunno why because it's not particularly comforting in any special way, but... anyway, it's called 'The Dormouse and the Doctor' by that fellow who wrote all those stories about Winnie-the-Pooh."
He clears his throat and begins: There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)... (http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/a__a__milne/poems/15373)
no subject
Fletcher doesn't know what to do. What comfort can he offer a man he knows next to nothing about? This is Richard Somethingorother from Manhattan. He is a Wanderer. He had a cross, now he doesn't.
"When I was wee," Fletch says, moving to prop himself on the side of Richard's bed, "My mum would read me this poem whenever I was upset. I dunno why because it's not particularly comforting in any special way, but... anyway, it's called 'The Dormouse and the Doctor' by that fellow who wrote all those stories about Winnie-the-Pooh."
He clears his throat and begins: There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)... (http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/a__a__milne/poems/15373)