A Fugitive

I am listening for footsteps , or the creak of a door .
I'm gasping for breath and quaking with fear.
I'm hungry and thirsty and wishing that I could escape 
I'm hoping and praying that I don't get caught today of all days
Yet a voice in the distance is shouting my name 
I'm just hoping  the scales of justice are  going to come down on my side
Or am I about to pay for my crimes. 
As the voice becomes clearer I can tell it's the wife. 
And its seems it's my turn  to face up to my crimes.
can you get on the scales  as it weight watchers, weigh in today
The facts of this matter are I have been caught out again,  the chippy and pub have  beat me again  .
"Next week dear, Amazing how many calories are  in lettuce !" 


comp entry 09032016
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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