His eyes rooted
the moment he saw her
at the bin's bottom;
he was so lonely he dimpled,
he oh so dug the
crowned, round fairy indigo
he mashed his tubby tuber
against the cool glass shelf
to spy the
blue beauty below.
Does a blubbering spud
chance a romance
with a twi-
lit nymph?
Why should she give
a shrub for some
raw hump from downside
the vegetable patch?
He'd oh so be sliced and steamed,
sweetened up in his starch
just to salad with her.
More Poetry | |