Bug
If something has a thorax and an abdomen, a head,
It’s shiny black, it has six legs and crawls
into our bed,
And, as it moves up to my wife I doubt it
wants a hug,
The phrase I’ll use, as I escape, is, “Watch
out for that 'bug'”!
Aroused, she wakes, the definition coming to her mind,
Is probably not a little “mic” that’s
difficult to find,
The kind of thing for listening by
international spies,
For all they’d hear is snoring through the
night until I rise.
The only other “bug” I know is “bugging” which annoys,
When siblings taunt and want to take away the
other’s toys,
So, this one makes no sense at all, this
thought she would reject,
In all of this, she must decide, with seconds
to reflect.
And, now I wake up from my dream there was no “bug” at all,
Yet, every definition in my dream I did
recall,
It’s crazy how the mind, it works, in such a
funny way,
Until I figure out this dream 'twill “bug” me
some today!
September 9, 2019
Peter Lowell Paulson
