Aunt Eva
My darling mother had no clue
She never ever really knew
Why I always feigned a fever
Before our visits to Aunt Eva
She never knew why I was sobby
Sharing breakfast with cousin Bobbie
I could think of nothing worse-er
Nothing that could make me terse-er
Aunt Eva really was a mean-er
When she served me her farina
I screamed and cried. Mom said, "be stiller"
But Aunt Eva was my Cereal Killer
I could never be real chipper
While being fed by Eve the Ripper
She choked me in her farina noose
Like Jack the Ripper, she cooked my goose
It seemed it was my Sunday's fate
To eat that stuff I loved to hate
It couldn't be less keen-able
It's taste was too farin-able
Those farina Sundays I so did dread
I knew for sure they'd make me dead
I thought I'd never last this long
Could it be, about Aunt Eva, I was wrong ?
by Stan Cooper...7/2000 graphic by Don Hunt
Poetry by Stan Cooper
Read 597 times
Written on 2007-04-02 at 06:21
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