Purse Rifler
Stumble, fumble, ponder, worry,
From under a thumb a Rifler did scurry.
Cold night as it was,
And only one purple slipper,
The Rifler ventured
Met a West London clipper.
Vivid and boisterous,
So brilliant this sight.
And wise beyond years
To the Rifler's delight.
So moved he had left her.
And after years of malarky,
She knew what to do now.
If she could just find her car key!
Copyright © Heather Miller | Year Posted 2006
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment