One boy in one bathtub, one hour or more…
With great trepidation I open the door.
The bath towel’s soaked, and the wall’s dripping wet;
The floor and the rug make a swampy vignette.
In the soggiest, squishiest, squashiest land,
There is one thing I never could quite understand…
With buckets of water all over the place,
How under the sun does it all miss his face?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Interesting poem. I imagine the boy's face is still dirty with all the soil or food stain before he got into the tub an hour earlier.
Precisely!I should have included a drawing of the boy in a tub with a dirty face but I wasnt able to do that! Its really cute and hillarious.
Post a Comment