Antomimes (A Child's Poem) Poem by Rob Clarke

when ants put on their small white faces
and prance around in picnic places
they utter not a single word
for antomimes should not be heard.

they wiggle this way, wriggle that
they smirk and smile and tip top hats
trapped in boxes you can't see
white gloved hands seek liberty

they beg for tiny crumbs of bread
that fall down from your picnic spread
they ask these morsels as a payment
for their antic entertainment

so when eating out-of-doors
share some of that meal of yours!
the ants work hard to make you smile!
won't you make it worth their while?


Robert Clarke
Copyright 1994