June 28, 2021 1 min read
Mom calls it junk, but really it’s treasure.
I need to hide it, cuz I’m feeling the pressure.
If Mom finds it first, she’s sure to act rash.
She’ll gather it up and it’ll go in the trash.
From nubs of a crayon to magical rocks,
From Lego pieces to pairless socks,
A stale, soggy cracker I found on the floor,
Oooh what is this? An old apple core!
These are my prizes which I need to hide.
It’s crucial I carry them right by my side.
This is why pockets are really quite key.
To keep all my treasures where mom will not see.
I don’t like fake pockets, they give me false hope.
When pockets aren’t functional, I sit and I mope.
No, they must be real! I prefer them quite sturdy!
To hold all my band-aids! Maybe like thirty?