(based on suggestions from @SeanMElliott, @matchtrick, @GretasTARDIS and @msmisrule)
When chocolate mouse got wings
sugar pig was lonely. But
he floated down in his patty pan
and ogled the wonder of the view
The pretty raindrops! A near miss
for our sweet pig becomes a
metaphor for anyone made of
sugar. Look out, sucrose folk.
If sugar pig could float out now
He’d envy that drop in the well of
his piglethood, see his
cupcake wrapper wilt into a
floppy fringe. His bacon would
be chopped up into Hamlets
His sugar would glow with
radioactivity instead of open-chains.
When chocolate mouse became a bat
polypoid pig had to wait
on the shelf. They tell stories, sing songs
Sometimes they are you and me.
Our pink friend should go out in a grunter
rustle up some feathers
wing himself out of ornamental status
find out if sugar pigs might fly.
Today's poem is based on suggestions from four peeps:
- @seanmelliott: "(singing) You and me and radioactivity..."
- @seanmelliott: "polypoid"
- @matchtrick: "Near misses. Wells. Wonders. Floppy fringes. Envy."
- @GretasTARDIS: "candy in the shape of pigs!"
- @msmisrule: "hamlet"
When I was little I loved Irina Hale's 'The Chocolate Mouse and the Sugar Pig, and How They Ran Away to Escape Being Eaten'. But I always felt it was unfair that the sugar pig had to stay on the shelf and wait for the chocolate mouse to visit each year. Why shouldn't he be allowed to be an Emily Rodda style pig instead?