Saturday, February 25, 2017

The Owl

Mum has promised me a pet.
I have asked her for an owl.
She’s broken out in a cold sweat,
Her language has been most foul.

We have gone to the pet shop.
I’ve chosen the prettiest bird.
I think Mum is about to drop.
Her words are weird and slurred.

I have named my owl Tom.
Mum is not talking to me.
This is like a time bomb.
Mum wants me to set Tom free.

But if it’s such a big deal,
Why did she buy him for me?
I beg, I supplicate, I kneel.
‘He’s cute, Mum, don’t you agree?'

The story has a happy ending.
Mum says Tom can stay,
But in exchange I’ll be mending
Broken windows with no pay.

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