Haiku, a poem
For a week or two after Wendy came it was doubtful whether they would be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. Mr. Darling was frightfully proud of her, but he was very honourable, and he sat on the edge of Mrs. Darling's bed, holding her hand and calculating expenses, while she looked at him imploringly.
Don't walk near the tiger: it'll make a meal of you.
[…] wrapped in layers of warm clothing against rushing icy air, and all longing for bubbling hot kye (Navy cocoa) at midnight.
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