The Death Of Me With Afternoon Tea Poem by Phil Soar
The Death Of Me With Afternoon Tea
I made a cup of tea at half-past three
Not thinking it would be the death of me
I tripped as I went back to where I sat
I'd fallen over next door's bloody cat
It's black, and wasn't lucky at the time
It didn't help this dodgy heart of mine
I scared myself to death by tripping up
And all the tea I'd made, had left the cup
Monday, January 9, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: silly
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9/21/2024 10:54:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
