This Month's Theme:
Not on my watch Flat Stanley

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Dirty Nuns by Holly Walker

I saw a nun across the street one day 
Picking flowers from a garden bed 
and strewing them about, hair astray. 
When she looked at me with eyes of red 
the “sister” stood and grinned wickedly, 
In that moment I thought for sure I was dead. 
She began to pursue me quickly 
Running, even in her habit 
Reaching, as if to take me downwardly 
a prize for the devil, to live an eternity in Satan’s pit 
but luck, or divine intervention 
caused her to fall, chomping at the bit 
I ran without stopping, glowing with elation 
at escaping a fate worse than a knuckle rap
I evaded her without hesitation
conscious that I could still fall into a trap

For I knew that a dirty nun
was five times more nasty than a clean one

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