Young Simon put everyone down
With insults and pointings and frowns.
Himself, he adored –
For a date, he implored;
Yet, ev’ry girl turned that jerk down.
“Look at me,” cried the balancing girl
As, on rooftop, she walked with arms whirled.
Despite your assumption,
Her balance resumption-ed,
And she, once on ground, died by squirrel.
©2020 Chel Owens
Like what you read? Wanna write one, too? Go ahead, then submit it for this week’s A Mused Poetry Contest!! The deadline is tomorrow morning.