Wednesday, April 22, 2015

What Once was Math Class

Grey lighting, 
Too hot or too cold.
Boredom almost killing, 
Slumping in uncomfortable chairs, 
Away from the group, 
Passing notes. 
Silent laughter, 
Shared smiles. 
Fluttering stomachs,
Like the wings of butterflies. 


There once was a child from Detroit.
At fishing he was quite adroit.
He once caught a finger, 
And then ceased to linger,
For his hands had been so maladroit. 

There once was a pony from Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg
Who broke his foot on a log
He had been a runnin'
He was moved by a Djinn,
And found out that he was in a bog. 

1 comment:

  1. I love that last one, are you sure it's a real place?