Aimless Poem by Phil Soar

Aimless



He'd fallen by the wayside, and his aim was past it's best
He couldn't hit a barn door, let alone a person's chest
His eyesight failed him badly, as he just turned 83
Which explains why he shot the cat, when he had aimed at me!

Friday, September 23, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense
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