DESMOND
Grumpy little Desmond,Sitting on the living room floor,
A little tear runs down his cheek,
His fist are clenched,
His face is red,
He was told not once but three times,
Yet he did not listen,
He rubbed his sore little bottom,
He was mad, He didn't like this world,
Nothing could make up or forgive,
Now that the tantrum was over,
A voice called from the kitchen,
Asking him if he wanted a cookie,
As he got up and headed for the kitchen,
Desmond fixed his tie, Grabbed his briefcase,
Thinking it was so simple,
All it takes is a cookie, To make it all better.......
Richard E. Cartledge PHOENIX 6/2010 (c)
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