That wiggle in deepest of dark.
Some like a party and when they get started
The mood is just like a spark.
These silly critters get all in a twitter
When finding the flat at the end
Of the narrowest street in the darkest of deep
Which from an odd town extends.
A cage lies below with looks just for show
And a lantern is lit in the flat,
Which silently swings, hoping to bring
A meal to a meal, tet-for-tat.
Who owns the flat?
Edited by Shakeepuddn, 13 April 2009 - 06:58 AM.