Could it really be?
Mused the flea,
That I'm not entirely liked?
It's with some despair,
That I roam this hair,
With my interest quite clearly spiked.
I can run, I can jump,
Over mighty high bumps,
But this really is bothering me.
I'm nice most the time.
I mean, is that a crime?
So why are they harrasing me?
Even the cat,
Where we live in our flat,
Doesn't tell us to leave right away.
But then maybe because,
He can't talk he just does,
Tolerate us through the day.
How nice to be loved,
By those up above,
And maybe here's what I should do.
Jump up on her leg,
And then pleadingly beg,
Before she hits me, head on, with her shoe.
Well here goes I guess,
I can't be liked less,
Jump up and I'm free of the cat.
She's seen me I'm sure,
As she stares at the floor,
"Hello Person, I've just come to"...SPLAT!
©2002 Gareth Lancaster
Explore more poetry like this: Animal Quackers
On 07/10/2005 at 13:53 GMT Daniel Stuinnell from england wrote:
"Great indeed Super"
On 25/06/2013 at 14:00 GMT Nethum from Sri lanka wrote:
"Well done it is cool"