The lion gets a hint of french fries.
But realises its a trap and runs to hide.
The lion's teeth and claws form a defensive shield,
So there's no challenges in the barren field.
The lion goes out to hunt for prey,
Then skillfully ticks his calendar off for May.
Showing posts with label Small Fry Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Small Fry Poetry. Show all posts
Sunday, December 20, 2009
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