The sidewalk coughed up weeds and cracks. A book, a magazine and a penny and a dime. Oh, and Carl looked behind him making sure the scene was empty. Breathed a sigh of bewilderment noting that it was.
Make a dent in the shovel, run the mud through a sieve. Paste your hopes on a windmill blade, plant it up on the hill. Pencil sharpened with a putty knife, pretty girl as a pretty nun.