Peanut
A roasted peanut sat on the tracks
He didn’t have hair and he didn’t wear slacks
Just sittin’
He sat there waitin’ for who knew what
The air was still and the sun was hot
Just sittin’
‘Til along came a train and squashed him flat
Twenty five carriages and that was that
Peanut butter
And then came a fox who sniffed at the mess
Licked up the splat and settled for a rest
Just sittin’
YOU ARE READING
The Tree of Dreams
PoetryRandom poetry and the occasional drabble or dribble of other short random thought from the depths my somewhat bemused brain, or possibly Brian if the schizophrenic misspelt pseudo entity that lives up there is up to his old tricks... poems from the...
