Hubby heard the  earlier poem I wrote (now erased) and said: oh god, what shlock! Sweet but not good writing. He may be right but it was fun to write. i got rid of it after reading it again out loud to him. Sometimes he like what i write. But not this time, I have never seen him  so wholeheartedly  disapprove of the quality of one of my poem writing.

Jazz is playing, Karen Ann a joue  il  ya quelques temps. Mon pied me fait mal effrayant. Le pied brise par la police sans bonne raison.