Children Poem by James McLain

quit digging you are messing
up the roses that i have for
she whoms name cannot
now flow from my lips
you have left your little
diggy marks every where.
now who may i ask is
going to undiggy your diggys
just let me know and i will
give you a tour in the
everly so colorful Moulin Rouge.
no telling where that
old dog burried the bone
any way..smart that i
know that you are..words as
silk the arm never knowing
where the gentle caress
starts or were it leads to.