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Image for the poem The Squirrel    

The Squirrel    

 
I saw a Squirrel, sitting up a tree
I saw the Squirrel staring down at me
I knew this Squirrel had more guts
sitting in a public park playing with his nuts
 
You'd never catch me doing that
I'm not like him, the dirty rat
putting his nuts in the pouches of his cheeks
I've been trying to do that for three whole weeks
 
Without success I would quickly add
before you judge me strange or sad
I'm not a real Squirrel, it's plain to see
Seems I simply have a nut allergy
Written by David_Macleod (14397816)
Published
Author's Note
Copyright © 2018 David Macleod All Rights Reserved. No part of this Poem may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of David Macleod. dtmacleod@easy.com
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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