Poetry

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My prose today,about a moth inside inside my little water pot;before going to my bed,tap turned on
lo;and behold excuse me chum,have to fly getting wet is not much fun,can see you any night or day;
there is no fabric in your kitchen place,a bit of a disgrace,so i will rest my case;accept you have a
blanket for tibbo your indoor cat,in his very own basket,up to your light bulb i can fly,and circle
around so i'll say goodbye,from this moth named why,your cat's in his bed so think of him instead;
from prose like pen,this little moth is still a creature then,so just say amen.
Joe.

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