Somehow we ended up with a black and white chicken,
it was of the exotic kind, a bastard child of a foreign bird of paradise and an escaped dinner.
I named it Ribena but I insisted on shouting 'chickenfeed' at it
every time it tittered around the house squawking.
You tried to feed it leftover meat and vegies
but instead it picked off the sesame seeds one by one off the bottom of the bowl.
It was Saint Patrick's day.
But you went away and now I don't know what holiday it is
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment