Platoons of imps march up and down my street,
Threatening mayhem if I don't give them a treat!
There are cowboys, Indians and phantoms galore,
Holding me hostage at my own front door!
They present their goodie bags for me to fill;
(Giving them an apple doesn't at all thrill).
Sure, they'd prefer a Reese's or Snickers treat,
But, by jove, I'm keeping them for me to eat!
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2019
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment