The Kettle and the Pot

The fire is under us both.
"The POT is black", the kettle confides.
"The kettle is hot", answers pot.
"I have carotts inside here", says POT.
"Potatoes aer my specialty", says kettle.
"You must be very hot my carott POT".
"OH My kettle, so aer you to make potatoe soup".
The fire is under us both.
"Why do ye call me black"?
"Attack" says kettle.
"You call me hot, OH now I`m boiling over".
Says POT, "I am simmering hot".
The fire is under us both.
The kettle and the POT.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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