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Mr. Coombs never groomed
Did not dust, did not broom
Filled with filth
Entombed with doom
He holed himself within his room
Unkempt, uncouth, tycoon of gloom

But then, one June beneath the moon
He fell in love, became a groom
This Mrs. Coombs, with beauty plumes,
cast a bloom into that prune
Now every single afternoon
Mr. Coombs is known to groom


dthaase, one line, pen and ink, poetry, poem

a wanderer for wonder and whimsy ~ CLICK HERE for more

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