Wednesday, May 23, 2018


A guilty flea sat by the tree
Questioning its will to flee.

With one leap no one can see,
It could be elsewhere, could be free.

(Leaping carelessly and aimlessly
Is what best defines a flea.)

Still deciding what to plea,
Its heavy legs won't make that leap.

If it's guilty, it's of glee;
If it's not, it's got to be,

Otherwise it would be free
To jump, to leap, to preach, to teach.

But even for this nimble flea,
You've never felt so out of reach.

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