lithedark

I once met a snake, not a slithery snake
Not a slick-backed old snake or slimy slim snake
But a snake all the same and Jake was his name.

He came once a-hissing and said he was missing
Got lost reminiscing and soon found dismissing
He’d lost his own way and he chose here to stay.

“You cannot be here!”, I cried out with fear
“The coast is not clear! Some people come near!”
“This room is for dining!” and he said, “Stop whining.”

“I will speak nicely”, he said quite concisely,
He grinned so spicily and cried quite precisely,
“A dining room spot is such a nice plot.”

I then racked my brain, for phrases in vain,
“You’ll get in the grain, or plug up the drain!”
“You’ll get in my tea, then where shall I be?”

It was too late, I was doomed to my fate,
With a snake for a mate, he’d seen through my bait.
He’d gone straight to sleep, my pillow to keep.

For my friend, Abi Power. Thanks for reading.