He sat at the tea table
Gazing at the scones,
The cakes, the cream pies,
Thinking of how he and his bones
One day would surely die.
He asked himself
‘Why must I live
Each day alone
When I cannot even give
A home to so lovely a scone?’
These depressing thoughts
Would kill him in the end,
Why shouldn’t he eat
‘Til he could hardly bend?
“My! What a delicious treat!”
The lonely scone, Michelle,
Leapt up from the plate
And exclaimed in a high voice:
“Oh! My first date!”
And began to rejoice.
Tears welled in her eyes,
“I’m sat all day in this shop
Just wishing that into someone’s
Mouth I would surely pop
And be into their stomach gone!”
The fat man looked at Michelle,
And gave a wide smile.
Michelle’s sad life
Would end in style!
The end of her strife.
He looked at her once more
And set down his hand,
He ate her – one bite,
But she tasted rather bland.
“With some jam she’d be alright!”
THE END.
l.s.
