Once I stole
Fruit from the bowl
Popped open fuchsia buds
Hid pennies in the brass
Umbrella stand, its funnelled base
A perfect fit. But question if my hand
Let slip
The sly-faced pansy jug.
Those spying eyes
All pulverized.
- I'll smile and shrug.
Writing a childish confession in 44 words for Lisa’s quadrille prompt: Stand
PoetryPix 