GARDEN FURNITUREWent into the garden where,
I meet a table and a chair.
With an open umbrella,
Sticking up into the air.
Tell me dear chair,
Do you like being sat upon.
With someone's derriere,
Isn't that what you're made for?
Being just a chair.
As for you dear table,
When the day has gone.
They leave things up on you,
Don't you ever feel put upon.
Then we have you dear umbrella,
Left open when there's a breeze.
Careful you never catch a cold,
Then fly off into the stratosphere,
Because of a little sneeze.
Alas they wouldn't talk to me,
As I walked away that day.
Thought I heard a mighty sneeze,
Turned and looked at the umbrella.
Floating away in the midday air,
As for the table and chair.
The curiosity of it all,
Made them stop and stare.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 92 times
Written on 2023-02-21 at 00:50
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