SHAPES


'I would dearly love to

Square

My account,' says my father

As his life nears full

Circle.

'But it's too late, Dad,' I

Round

On him. 'You were such a lousy

Father to all three of us.' Dad

Arches

His eyebrows and asks: 'Where's

Polly gone?

'And where on God's earth has

Hector gone?'

I merely shrug because my family

Is in such really awful

Shape.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem