Eyebrows, Oh eyebrows,
you sit on my face.
You clutch my visage
in your kindly embrace.
You’re ever dependable,
loyal and true,
although I confess
I don’t know what you do.
Eyebrows, Oh eyebrows,
a present from God –
without you one’s mug
is ineffably odd.
Like two caterpillars
you’re covered in hair.
This poem’s to tell you
I’m glad that you’re there.
Joshua Seigal
[inspired by the main man Jack Prelutsky]
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.