His breath was like a blow torch.
If I get any closer my hair it might scorch.
I hope tomorrow he remembers to brush.
Oh, and while he's in there.... please remember to flush.
Author's Notes/Comments:
This is a poem that was written as an answer to a challenge.....
Tim Marshall sent me this title.... if you have not read any of his work ... well friend.... you are missing out on a real treat....
anyway... now back to the subject at hand..... when I read this title.... well I was like.... what the .....
well I sat back.... dug in deep..... and thought oh no Mr. Marshall you will not beat this lil' ol' southern chickie.... and I gave it a whrill..... and you know.... I liked it.... and he must....he reads this more often than anyone else I know... including me....LOL...
Tim my friend.... I thank the Great Spirit every day that our paths have crossed....you are the greatest....
