A matchbox carefully worn; adorned:
‘Beware the bite and bark’
Starts to rattle, shake and spit.
A ravenous spark jives within’t;
Granny – tiny; yet hot-fierce
Rasps for ‘pillar.
“’Pillar, you hear!”
She wants to suck the
Juice from creepy-crawlies,
Rip the prickles from their backs,
They’ll last her weeks –
She’s very small.
(A thimble-tall, if at all.)
The recipe is simple.
Slide the rascalliwagon ‘pillar in.
Shred some cabbage for effect.
(She won’t be keeping the ‘pillar as a pet.)
She’ll chomp her way to the centre
Using her very miniature dentures.
It’ll soothe her temper.