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The Chicken: Part Two



Back to my desk returning, fear in me hotly burning

For relief was yearning, barely holding it together

But through the darkened glass, something made me gasp

And at my heart I clasped, my feet could not feel leaden-er

Was I about to be someone made dead-er?

Could I feel more dread-er?

Opened up the flash of the window before it smashed

And out I almost passed as I was tickled by a feather

‘Twas a chubby chicken, a bird that had been thickened

But still had steps quite quickened, as to my home it entered

And perched upon my desk after ungracefully it entered

Then chuckled in the center

Then this chunky bird besmirched as on my crowded desk it perched

It couldn’t help but almost lurch for it wasn’t light as feather

“Your keel be plump and juicy,” I said, “I use the term quite loosely.

It isn’t something usually you see at someone’s leisure -

Tell me what your name is, if you can, but only at your leisure…”

Squawked the Chicken, “Never.”

Much admired was this fowl and its demeanour made me howl

For to even tweet one vowel was a feat just altogether;

For I could not help but wonder, what weird spell I might be under

As to why I would be talking to a chicken that I might tether

What a marvel is a talking chicken that thinking I might tether

For at least its feathers…

But the chicken, sitting alone on my desk, upon my phone

Said only one word, as if it were under some kind of pressure

Nothing more did it even squawk, as if it did not want to talk -

It purposely did balk, like the sunshine in bad weather -

As if it were taunting me, it seemed to garner pleasure

Then again it tittered, “Never.”



To be continued...

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