Black Sheep
I feel like a black sheep in a group hug.
Let me back up to the onset of my story.
I might have doctored my resume - I shrug.
I fear that they’d sight my age a bit hoary.
I’m happy as a minority amidst the lovely sheep.
Please don’t compare me to a wooly-coated wolf.
I’ll work my magic, soon as, i’m released from peeps.
They’ll be sure to respect me with a friendly game of golf.
I’d wag my tail with happiness if I could move.
My smile would be genuine, if released from the crowd.
My sleeves would roll, I’d part this sea with love.
Oh help me, this bleating echoes rather loud!
1/17/2018
Eve Roper’s poetry contest
Pic #3
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