A Little Poem Of Tarts by Sophie Fletcher

You can get all sorts of tarts

Making them is one of the arts

Lemon, jam and berry too

Though I don’t think there is one of poo

Some are plastic some are real

Some even taste of orange peel

Tarts are sometimes in our dreams

They are everywhere it seems

Some are savoury, others sweet

Some our standards they don’t meet

Some for dogs and some for cats

Some we hit with baseball bats

Some are made in big buildings

Others made with golden gildings

They’re sometimes sticky some are fresh

Baked behind a wire mesh

If they’re outside birds will come

And steal them one by one

If in the kitchen they are left

Ants will come and make a theft

So, in conclusion I say

Tarts are great in any way

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About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
This entry was posted in Family, Humour, Kid's Stories, Nonsensiliosity, Sophie's Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

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