A four line poem about: parking spots.
My final line popped into my head today and I had to include it, so now you get to suffer with this prompt because of it. You're welcome!
Market went better than expected this morning, since we didn't think there would be too many fruit-buying tourists. Apparently there's a jazz festival of some sort going on in Penticton this weekend, so that seemed to help.
It's hard to believe it's been nine years already. The memories of that day, and those that followed, are still very fresh in my memory.
You can say what you will,
Go on, I don't care!
It's plain for all to see:That car was born there.