A Bit ''Oddball''

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I was a little girl with a tattered ragdoll,
       and I lived in an attic that was not tall;
           in fact, there were parts where I had to crawl.
              I liked to play make-believe till nightfall,
                and write-   so I wrote on the wall;
listening to dreamy gentle rainfall . . .
       and on that wall, oh yes, I did scrawl.
         Then in the morning I heard Mom call,
           she beheld my wall writing in great appall;
             oh yes indeed, it was my curtain-call . . . 
Mom left and returned with a can of spray Lysol.
        I want you to clean it and I mean all,
          and went away muttering- I was a bit oddball;
            so I cleaned it and then lay on my bed, I recall
               crying and holding my tattered doll.


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February 8, 2017

Poetry/Rhyme/A Bit "Oddball"
Copyright Protected, ID 17-873-515-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

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