See the looking of the God,
I think he’s angry at the petard.
He finds it hard to see the king,
Overshadowed by the light baseball swing.
Who is that flapping near the beach?
I think she’d like to eat the broadbeach.
She is but a quiet musician,
Admired as she sits upon a demolition.
Her mortal car is just an ace,
It needs no gas, it runs on steeplechase.
She’s not alone she brings a kitten,
a pet spider, and lots of briton.
The spider likes to chase a snail,
Especially one that’s in the voicemail.
The God shudders at the weak scorpion
He want to leave but she wants the morpion.
Oh, that is so nice, Mr Jay!
LikeLike
Thank you Ms. Katherine, Appreciate your visit and kind comment. Regards. Jay
LikeLike
Thank you too, Mr. Jay for sharing! 🙂
LikeLike
🙂
LikeLike