I am but an egg, oblong and white
Rolling perilously forward, full of fright.
Closer and closer comes the edge,
If I just had a doorstop with which to wedge.
But it's not my fate on this sad day,
I'm destined to end in only one way.
As I fall earthward with the wind rushing,
All I can think of is my insides gushing.
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(by Gary W. Vanderbur
© July 2,2000
Write Naturally Publishing House
...a division of VAN Enterprises)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem