A Crab's Life

Just yesterday morning, The west wind whirled away my hat. "What use is an old hat?" I murmured as I pedalled my bicycle, whistling. Few miles away, my flip-flop fell off, I let the second one go too, "It's better to lose the two, What use can one worn out flip-flop be of?" Then the sun shone suddenly, harshly, And I missed my miserable hat. My bicycle broke down a part, And the heated ground showed no mercy. On my way back, I saw a mad man Kneeling and raising his hands up: He has found a hat and pair of flip-flop. My sole is sore, my head is swoon.