Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Rogue Grape

Out of my hand
A rogue grape fell.
It rolled away
Moving pell-mell.

Onto the table,
Then onto the floor.
That grape wibble-wobbled
Right out the door.

It made its escape
To the garage,
Where it lay quietly
Next to the garbage.

The garage was hot,
The temp was blazin'.
That silly rogue grape
Is now a raisin.

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