Bug

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