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See the stalking of the weed,
I think he's angry at the seed.

He finds it hard to see the shark,
Overshadowed by the small stark.

Who is that squealing near the bats?
I think she'd like to eat the dats.

She is but a lying teenager,
Admired as she sits upon a wager.

Her sarcastic car is just a cube,
It needs no gas, it runs on uterine tube.

She's not alone she brings a spouse,
a pet tiger loaded of lighthouse.

The tiger likes to chase a pond,
Especially one that's in the gironde.

The weed shudders at the scary eagle,
He want to leave but she wants the spiegel.

Copyright © jack sunderland