A Ficus in the Bathroom

After our writer's group meeting I entered the men's room and discovered a ficus standing there beside the toilet.

'Hmm," I said aloud. "There's a ficus in the bathroom."

And thus this poem (for better or worse) was born.


A Ficus in the Bathroom

There's a Ficus in the bathroom
There is butter on my bread
There's a hound dog in the bedroom
There are voices in my head

There are kittens in the hallway
On a carpet gold and red
There's a moose head on the wall
And he's well and truly dead

There's a Ficus in the bathroom
And the hound dog’s on the bed
There's a kitten in the bedroom
Where the others fear to tread

There's a Ficus in the bathroom
And my mind is filled with dread
There's a rifle in the basement
Say the voices in my head

Now the kitten's on the pillow
And the hound dog's on the spread
There's a Ficus in the bathroom
So I use the sink instead

There is honey on my butter
There's a shotgun in the shed
There's a Ficus in the bathroom
There's a fracas on the bed

Now the cat wails like a banshee
And the hound dog's seeing red
And the fur is just a flying
Round the mounted moose's head

There's a Ficus in the bathroom
There is thunder in my head
There's meowing in the kitchen
Where the kittens all have fled

There's a cat up on the counter
And he's nibbling on my bread
There's a Ficus in the bathroom
But I've pumped it full of lead


FWG