"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot is supposedly my husband's favourite poem. He was trying to quote it the other night, though, and could only come up with vague references to "foggy peach cats" and "rolled up trousers." This drawing is based on his half-remembered ramblings.
My name is Shannon, and I draw silly things.
"You're not a guitar, but you're still my hero"