| |
Right smack dab in the middle of my face
a nose is growing in that place.
I think it looks real goofy there,
but I can’t move it any other somewhere.
Some are big, but mine is small,
and babies have a bump, that’s all.
It isn’t nice to lie, I know,
'cause my nose might grow like Pinnocchio’s.
With a cold it’s stuffy, just because,
near Sissy’s feet... you wish it was.
Most times, my nose is a friend to me.
It warns, Mom’s cooking broccoli
or other stuff that I won’t eat,
like liver (that’s a yucky meat) .
Sometimes it works the other way...
Mom made oatmeal cookies today,
and I also like to smell perfume.
The kind Mom wears stinks up a room.
We’d sure be missin', I suppose,
some real neat sniffin' without a nose.
C.J. Heck
|
|
User Rating: |
|
10.0
/10
(2 votes) |
|
|
|
C.J. Heck
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend