This is a walking poem!
Often on my morning walk I have a poem that creates itself to the rhythm of my steps. Mostly, I forget all about them. Sometimes, not. This is a case of not!
A knitter from Maine
became quite insane,
she cast off her stitches and fled.
She took up crochet,
but try as we may
she wouldn’t get out of her bed.
She’s now more relaxed
is coiffured and waxed,
she’s knitting again, thank the Lord.
We’ve put in requests
for scarves and fine vests,
but now she is thoroughly bored!