For up my boot is raised in the air
To land upon this destructive creature
As tiny as a strand of hair
This creature which steals my apple
And shows no respect
Will today meet its waterloo
So that there will be none left to suspect.
But, halt, Blessed be this day
I'll let this tiny creature go its way
For I know not what doom awaits me
And perhaps Providence will spare me.
Pixabay.com
Great work. Not to be rude
Is that supposed to be “blessed”?
updated. Thanks for spotting it out. Cheers!
You’re welcome. Great work again. I love your poem.
Thanks bro