PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The leaves came tumbling down.

They formed a carpet on the ground.

The weather changed from cold to wet

and so it was their  trap was set.



I took the dog out for her walk,

along the path and stopped to talk.

By now the trees looked thin and sparse

I slid my length upon my arse.



I sat upon my sore wet bum

and wondered why this way i"d come.

The dog ran off to have her pee

and then ran home to have her tea.



I struggled up upon my feet

and shuffled back towards my street.

My pride intact I reached my door

but holy cow my ass was sore.



The Moral of this story then,

beware the month that numbers ten.

For when the nights come draped in fog.

Get the Wife to walk the dog!