by James:
It's St. Patrick's Day, and a year has gone by
Since I took that walk in the woods
And something caught my eye.
He was a strange little fellow
Who had a rather large nose
And a belt of bright yellow.
He was dancing with all his might,
With surprise intensity
For one of his height.
I do not know if he saw me,
If so, he did not care.
He kept right on dancing
As if I wan't there.
Then, I was finally able to see
What inspired him to dance
With such an energy.
Because, if the truth be told,
One always dances better
When his stabe is a pot of gold.Next Poem ~ Previous PoemSubmit Your Poetry
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