Road Kill
This morning, I went for a walk,
A stroll in winter's morning chill.
I'd had a breakfast of fried pork,
For lunch I hoped to find road kill.
There were some toads squashed here and there,
A snake had clearly met his end;
But nothing I considered fare,
Until I walked around a bend.
There lying in a crumpled heap,
(He'd surely parted from his flock)
There lay a bruised and bloodied sheep;
He'd suffered from a fatal knock.
It was a shame he'd come to harm,
A tragedy he'd had to die.
My wooly friend had bought the farm,
For lunch I'm having shepherd's pie.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.