The Toad

The toad sits under a flower pot

a leathery warty thing,

giving me such a sorrowful look

for simply discovering him.

I pull out rotting tomatoes

put grow bags into a bin,

the toad’s not impressed 

that I’m doing my best,

just cross I’m disturbing him.

He crawls into a tight corner,

he’s fat, but tries to look thin,

he need not worry 

I’m not in a hurry

and won’t be disposing of him.

This entry was posted in Brighton - out and about, Cheer yourself up, Photography, Poetry - Creative Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Toad

  1. agomuocharles says:

    Reblogged this on lerry411.

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