Monday, March 2, 2015

One Crochet Owl




One owl, most foul.
He's been alone for a while.
Been stuck outside,
While his family hides inside.
 "Come back," he yells,
"I'll be nice!" He compels.
But no one comes; perhaps he still smells.
He didn't mean to taunt that skunk,
Didn't mean to trip and fall in all that gunk.
Yes he stinks, it's his jinx.
But he swears, 
if it takes a week in the sink.
He'll make himself clean, and never again be mean.
Just "Come Back!" he screams.
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