NaPM April 6 2015

[billy]

come on guys, poem of the day april 6th

The Stick

I had a friend who'd fly away
I'd run and fetch him back
when in the park or on a hill
or down some muddy track,

and then i saw him with a scout;
smoldering by the fire
when i said "the stick was mine"
I was called a liar.

You'd think he'd ask how i could talk
no, this kid was bitter.
he tied me to bramble bush
and kicked me up the shitter.