His Nose

The nose he wears sits on his head It's big and round and very red; And in the dark it always glows It must be awful to own that nose. There's two dark holes filled with hair With whatever else that's hidden there; Each time I see with great surprise That glow that sits between his eyes. It shines as though when night meets day There never could be another way; I wonder too if he can tell If red affects his sense of smell. Perhaps the problem is I think He's had in time too much to drink; I suggested then to paint it white And he seemed to think this was alright. For Frank Herrera's Zaniest Poetry Contest Elizabeth Wesley