Fear of Goldilocks
Say we are food, like porridge;
Say our lands cuddle buns like chairs;
And hold a body or more as comfortably as a well-made bed.
Then if Goldilocks comes here
From a doomed planet afar,
To secure a new home,
We might be the fit-in-a-trillion,
And here she (they) might sit
And decide to stay.
Fear her today.
poem by Stan Petrovich
Added by Poetry Lover
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