Little Goose
Little goose wn't lay agolden egg
unless she feels inclined
she fluffs her feathers in your face and you can't change her mind
you can't translate the quacks and squeaksyou have to wait until she speaks
and listen sometimes it takes weeksuntil an egg you'll find.
the little poet preans and plays
maybe for a week of days
you know how genius has it's ways
the mazes of her mind.
Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006
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