POETRY IN MOTION
A Squirrel
There's a squirrel lives not far away
Comes in my garden every day.
To raid the bird-box he's quite keen
And when he thinks he can't be seen,
From tree-top safety he descends.
The nuts are for our feathered friends,
But he's not fussy, has no pride,
He scoffs them til he's satisfied
Then off he goes back to his mate -
Who wonders why he's put on weight.
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A Squirrel
A Squirrel
