Living on the Ledge


There’s a skink upon the ledge

In my sunroom

He peers over the edge

Looking for a way down

Or perhaps he’s watching me write

It’s possible, I suppose,

He wants to become famous

 

I shredded carrots

And lettuce too

Put a touch of water

In a bottle cap

All placed on a jar lid

Sitting on the ledge

Near him

 

Will he eat?

Will he drink?

He’s awfully cute

In a scary sort of way

He’s up too high to reach

He runs, or flops,

In his skink-ish stride

When I come near

He hides

 

This is day two

The cat watches him

He watches me

I watch him and the cat

Skinks live low

He’s up high

I don’t know

If he’ll die

 

I wish I had

More to say

But I don’t

I really like the little fellow

Hope he finds his way

Living up high

On the edge

Of the ledge

4 thoughts on “Living on the Ledge

  1. That is a magnificent poem. You have given his personality a wholly new dimension with ‘ It’s possible, I suppose,
    /He wants to become famous.
    ‘ You have transmuted the poet’s consciousness into the creature crawling on the edge high on the ledge.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Uma. He is quite famous at our house 🙂
      Shortly after I posted this he decided it was time to get down. After much screaming (on my part) and a bit of help, he ventured back out into the great wide world.

      Liked by 1 person

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