He stood above the tempting pot
and gazed across its boiling rim.
A yearning glance, a well-timed shot;
perhaps the water wasn't hot?
What would it hurt to take a swim?
As steamy sweat embraced his brow,
still swirling from the bubbly stew,
a fragrance beckoned to him now:
one whiff of bull, one pinch of sow.
He pursed his lips to taste the brew.
And closer still our friend was drawn,
with all his common senses spent.
By then, of course, no thought would dawn
what source this meal had preyed upon.
Beyond the brink this fellow went.
The Gadfly |
Submission Name: The Tempting Pot
