Thursday, 3 April 2014

a one hundred and third poem...'good dog'

Julian turned up for work an hour late. 
‘Why are you late?’, asked his boss. 
‘I hate my job’, replied Julian, all sincerity. 
‘Fair enough’, said his boss,
‘Now get on with your work’. 
‘Righto’, said Julian,
And went to his desk,
Like a good dog.

No comments:

Post a Comment