Penguins

by Grace

Penguins in houses,
Penguins in chairs,
Penguins are running,
Running up the stairs.

Whither are they going?
Whither do they go?
Whither have they gone to,
'Cause I really want to know.

Have they found a place to go
In their fancy-suited dress?
Waddling bow-tied tuxes,
Neatly steamed and pressed.

(Douglas Adams, rest his brilliant soul, inspired this poem with his book, "The Long Dark Tea-Time Of The Soul." His penguins were in boxes, though.)

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