A poem that I really like by my friend Lorrie Hartshorn:
Oh lonely maggot,
Don’t fret
Come rest your weary,
wigglesome body
Come and claim
Your steak
My giddy ant
They are cruel,
Dearest maggot
But wiggle this way,
With your beetling brows
There is room at the bin for you.
May be that the other maggots are rotters,
Living together in pears
While you’re in
The dump.
But,
lonely maggot,
Wiggle this way
And I shall cherish you
Until the day
You fly.
1 comment:
I love the last verse especially - one couls slip that out of context into an anthology of love poetry and no-one would think anything of it!
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