What Kind of Worm Are You
By the light of the moon the skeleton danced
He was exuberant, happy, thrilled with his mission
The surrounding shadows hid their eyes
Fearful of his excitement, afraid of who he might convert
What if they all started to shed their flesh? A chipmunk asked.
A worm who had been hiding under the same leaf nodded.
It could be anarchy, mayhem, a catastrophic Armageddon.
What kind of worm are you? The chipmunk asked. “A bookworm?”
The bookworm was silent; for he was a CIA bookworm.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2022
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