Monday, May 21, 2012

Poe in a Bag

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered,- here I opened wide the door;
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, peering,
Looking for my wayward guest, when something gleaming caught my view;
On the porch my eyes were showing that a paper bag was glowing,
Glowing with a dancing fire that with every moment grew.
Donning loafers without prompting, I intently took to stomping,
Stomping on that paper bag, for careless fires I eschew.
Threat extinguished, yet there lingered something sticky on my shoe.
Here I muttered, "Doggy poo."

No comments:

Post a Comment