Poor Little Pinkies
My dearest little pinkies
With your tips of ruby treasure
I know you'll be complaining
Soon
And screaming your displeasure
Say hello to socks and boots
The weather is the reason
And that pedicure I got you
Was the last one of the season
You're happiest when you can wriggle freely all the day
But sadly you must kiss goodbye
To flip flops til next May
You'll moan at being squashed and sore
I'll promise as you groan
Of freedom from your clompy cells
As soon as I get home.
poem by Stevie Taite
Added by Poetry Lover
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