Poetry of an Odd Sort

Not a twitch, not a change,

Just stuck to the wall,

Like an amateur abseiler,

Scared he might fall,

I’m so tempted to prod it,

To stir it to life,

Or to blow on it, flick at it,

Stir up some strife,

But I don’t, I’m not mean,

I’m a nice kinda guy,

I’ll watch out the corner of

My crafty right eye,

He’s off now! A scamper,

He’s over my bed,

I’ll peek up ab…

Ah! He’s Dropped on my Head!

§156 · December 5, 2008 · Children's Rhymes · · [Print]

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