Don’t Flush


poetry book in toilet

I am a little poetry book
On the bathroom shelf.
Except for the towels
I’m left all by myself.

When you visit the toilet
You sadly ignore me.
You seem to avert your eyes
From this little book of poetry.

I want to shout “look at me here
I’m right here near the towels.”
But you couldn’t care less.
As you focus on your bowels.

But what are you now doing
Is that for me you reach.
At last will you read me
At last can I teach.

Teach of fantastic tales
Or of sheer poetic joy.
Teach of tales of wonder
Poetry I’m sure you’ll enjoy.

You pick me slowly up
If I could I’m sure I’d grin.
I wasn’t sure you love me
I feared I was destined for the bin.

But my joy suddenly turns to tears
I see why you’ve saved me for later
If I could I’d scream, as you
Tear me to make toilet paper.

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7 thoughts on “Don’t Flush

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