Berries

Horace gathered a basket of berries,

Then, once home, emptied them into a pot;

“Now to add spices and sugar,” he said,

“And cook a rather nice berry compote.”

But the berries took offence and called out,

“Stop there, Horace–you’re taking the mickey:

We're fresh fruit and should be eaten uncooked,

Don't you dare make us spicy and sticky.”

Horace sneered, which he should never have done,

For with a cry of “We’re not your dessert!”

The berries leapt and splattered against him,

Forever staining his trousers and shirt.

By K. J. Watson

From: United Kingdom