Curtis Johnson Poet Rhyme

I Sold Him A Boat

'Sales Pitch' Contest
By Margarita Lillico

Story is fiction.061026



It's not always a sin,
But every now and then, 
Some things happen
That makes no sense.

He was a buyer;
I was a seller.
His summers were hot
Like an oven.
His winters felt a lot
Like a freezer.

The land was flat
And looked like pain.
No hills, no mountains,
And it seldom rained.

Encircled by trees,
There were neither
Dames, lakes, or rivers.
Best scenery  was Autumn leaves.

He didn't fish
But shot fowls 
And hunted dear,
Year after year.

There was no politicing there.
He had nothing for
Or against to vote.

Even though he had nothing
In those parts on which to float,
I found a way to selll him a boat.

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