Monday, January 9, 2012


Her temper was accommodating,
Though she'd almost abandoned hope
Of ever reinvigorating
Her father who'd become a mope.
As if in clouds of anesthetic,
He daily grew more apathetic
Until he tried at suicide
And failed. Now his abated pride
Had plunged into abject submission.
But she had an adaptive wit
And struggled on and wouldn’t quit.
She took him off on expedition
And somewhere on the lower Nile
She fed him to a crocodile.

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