She draws <br />an amoeba me <br /> <br />thinks twice <br /> <br />then adds crude <br />hands & feet <br />that look like sticks <br /> <br />then as an afterthought <br />with a sweet quavery smile <br /> <br />...a sweet quavery smile. <br /> <br />I know it's me <br />'cos I ask her. <br />'What is it? ' <br /> <br />'It's you! ' <br />she admonishes <br />'Oh..! ' I say <br />pointing to the empty amoeba <br /> <br />where there is a large space <br />of nothing. <br /> <br />'What's all this then? ' <br /> <br />'I hadn't filled it in...yet! ' <br />she says with disgust. <br /> <br />She draws a big beefy <br />red raw heart <br /> <br />squarely at the centre. <br /> <br />'There...that's you! ' <br /> <br />'Exactly! '<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/amoeba-me-for-lyn/
