Tue, 05/10/2016 - 23:38 -- mepa22

There's a warm group of pink pigs

roaming the unattended class rooms.

One little pink pig drifted off

due to the sweet aroma

of an unknown substance.

He then goes onto the kitchen

and finds a jar of figs.

He takes a weary glance

around the room.

To see if others have

discovered his secret. 

He wanted to savor

the moment, the taste

all to himself. 

A guilty pleasure.

A hidden treasure.

Unfortunaly, he could only

watch the jar of figs

be taken away from long and hairy arms. 

Oh! The same arms that regularly visits and gifts

him and his pals. 

Always helping him with the gals.

He followed the long and hairy arms

who placed the jar of figs on a table. 

Oh! A table festooned with

ribbons, china plates, silverware,

baked goods and even hot chocolate!

And something familiar...

Something that is no longer recognizable...

a big fat roasted pig.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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