Poem By Herbert Nehrlich
Quite ill and running a high fever
I found inside my box a beaver.
How did a beaver get inside
perhaps he was in need to hide.
The reason that he did stay put
is that he could not raise his foot.
He'd eaten all my cheese and ham
and most of that big leg of lamb.
But when he was (with eating) finished
the lunchbox contents were diminished.
The fellow though had grown so huge
that neither will nor subterfuge
could get him out again to leave.
But next day it was Christmas eve.
As absentminded I can be
I placed a stick of celery
inside the box and then some sweets
my favourites are those Mince Pie Treats.
The beaver, barely now alive
saw all the Christmas sweets arrive.
He shared my taste for mince of course
and ate them all without remorse.
The mince expanded in his gut
he suffered now, from all this glut.
There came, you guessed it, a big bang
he flew, like an orang-utang.
And landed on my king size bed.
But in the morning he was dead.
I did recover from my fever
but not from visions of the beaver.
I have not used a bed or box
my name is Missy Goldilocks.