Write a four line poem that has something to do with: misread.
The market went very well overall today, but I'm still stuck on focusing on a Prana Farm first: we brought home berries today.
We have always sold out of berries. Always. So to bring home blackberries today... kind of overshadows the 260 pounds of nectarines we sold.
But it was a different crowd this morning. Lots of people from Vancouver and its surrounding area, which means lots of people used to picking wild blackberries for free at the side of the road and in parks, like we used to do when we lived there.
Except our berries are so much better than those. Oh well.
Anyway, I've been up since five this morning and I can feel a falling asleep on the couch coming, so I should get to writing.
Edit: sigh, never mind.
He thought she wanted him,
But that turned out wrong.
Now she has everything,
And all for a song.