Down leafy ways and winding plays on words
he dashed to find the rhyme that time forgot.
Without it, he would find one day that curds
and whey feed Mistress Muffet, but do not
sustain a tuffet, soft and pliant; still
a bitter pill of ills, not sugar sweet
but putrefied, as Jack went up the hill
to find his Jill. But would they ever meet?
If Humpty Dumpty had his way, some day
sweet Jill would be his own, and he would find
that he could plunder, tear asunder, play
with Jack’s fey darling. Ha! He wouldn’t mind.
But nursery rhymes are not allowed to be
as cruel as you have ever been to me.
For information about my published writing, please visit my website at www.freewebs.com/catherineedmunds