Curious child


Mummy spoke to my daddy,
Through a door left open.
"No she doesn't have an Inkling",
Though mummy was softly spoken.

An Inkling? Maybe its a centipede
With saddles on its back.
All my friends have agreed,
What a funny present it would be.

Or maybe its a hippopotamouse,
Wonder could it fit in our house?
Its bound io be small, If not;
Think of the holes in the wall.

It just isn't fair,
They could have hidden it anywhere.
My eyes are getting tired daddy said,
"Birthday tomorrow come on off to bed"

WEEE I yelled its my birthday,
Daddy asked me to sit so I sat.
Mummy brought in my presents,
Found out what an inkling is;
An inkling is a cat.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 136 times
Written on 2021-09-19 at 17:25

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