Running Out Of Bait

My squirlbush is an undercover spy--
Hidden under a grand aka...
Writing the baiting words for surrender...
Is for him just a day of game play;
He alerted me to the awareness of potpan...
Squirlbush directed my eyes--
Into the direction of boxes...
Thank God for undercover spies;
Thank you Squirlbush for the alarm...
Sending the ammonia far far away--
Clobhammer knows hes in hot water today--
Scalded-but wonder if he still can come out and play.

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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