“I’m hungry like da wolf;
Da wolf at da door;
Hurry up and let me in,
Or I’ll fade away for sure.”
So, feeling kind I let him in
And, where do I begin,
He ate my arm, my leg (and then the rest of me)
I know – I ‘never’ win.
“But, how did you write this poem without any limbs?” you ask.
Well, you see, I am a poet
Who is ‘up’ to the task.
.
.
.
NB this is Based upon Jane (LOML) being ‘hungry’ and my poeticising that. Simple G:)
“I am aware, Wolf, that the things you say are true; but, I am still having trouble getting used to a talking wolf.”
Wolf the wolf looked at the penguin.
“You’ll get used to it; but, it’s beyond me what you are doing in this laundrette!” said Wolf.
“Just waiting for my washing to finish.” elucidated Pengui the Penguin.
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