In a Pickle Am I
In a pickle am I. All is green.
It's like some kind of plant quarantine!
Yes, I feel like I’m hidden from view
and without a clue what I should do!
What a pickle I’m IN. It’s severe.
How the heck did I ever get here?
It’s not comfy to be in this pickle.
And now am I feeling a prickle?
I much would prefer to be tickled
than vinegar-smothered – so PICKLED.
Like a gherkin, it’s not even sweet
and a pickle I never would eat!
This is nasty – like some sour pill.
Oh, it’s bad. It’s a really BIG dill!
Feb. 20, 2020 for Nina Parmenter's Pickle Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2020
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