Is this just a curse that follows me around?
For I’m only five years old, three feet off the ground,
Playing inside or out, I get the sniffles bad,
I wish this was a nose I never had!
I sniffle all day, as the green slime grows,
Where it comes from? Nobody knows.
I wipe the snot on my right shirt sleeve,
It gives me somewhat of a temporary reprieve.
My mum wipes my nose with a man size tissue,
Pinching my nose hard, as if it’s a big issue.
‘Now play outside and be sure to wipe your nose!’
She says as the snot continually grows!
The slime forms on my lip, it’s sweet to taste,
Best that I lick it off, shouldn’t go to waste.
Will I ever get rid of this horrible grime?
Or will I always be saddled with this yucky slime.
Copyright © Ronald D Thompson | Year Posted 2020
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