Ode to Sally

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic
Allegorical; designed to represent that old adage, “what goes around comes around.” I.E. if you think only of yourself and other trivial things in life (like Sally) than the world will stop thinking of you, like you have stopped thinking about it. Also my own way of poking fun at some of the people I know from school.

Submitted: October 06, 2008

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Submitted: October 06, 2008

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Ode to Sally
Late one evening Sally sat at her desk,
Doing what you might call procrastination at best;
She had the Paper do in mere hours you see,
For already the time was a quarter past three.
 
Yet still she continued to squander her time,
Till her eyes were all droopy and covered with grime;
She stretched and yawned and shut down her computer,
Forgetting the Paper still looming before her.
 
Tired, she shuffled to her warm, toasty covers,
And dreamt pleasant dreams of something-an-others;
When she woke in the morning she realized her error,
The thought of the Paper soon filled her with terror.
 
She had no idea who he was –this Benjamin Franklin,
Was he the author from the French Revolution?
…Or maybe he invented a wonderful thing,
Something to do with a kite and a string…
 
“Of course,” she thought, “how silly of me,
To forget the man who invented electricity!”
“Without him how could I ever straighten my hair?
Or send my friends lots of Facebook flair?”
 
Her mind quickly turned from those horrors,
To finishing the Paper for that mean Mrs. Troyers;
She finished the Paper with just minutes to spare,
And she raced outside to catch the bus there.
 
While awaiting the arrival of her morning transporter,
She caught her reflection in a puddle –and saw great disorder!
Upon seeing herself she let out a gasp,
And set down her things to apply make-up fast.
 
After her beautification, she watched in dismay,
As the neatly typed Paper blew swiftly away;
She ran, and ran until finally she caught it,
And luckily the Paper was only a little mud spotted.
 
All this time she was so self-engrossed,
That she never noticed the bus in careful repose;
When she finally looked-up from her paper in hand,
She discovered things were not going quite as she planned.
 
Pretty and polished on the outside at least,
She discovered her toils were worth nothing, and ceased;
With a mechanical groan and grinding resistance,
The big yellow bus faded into the distance.


© Copyright 2020 KatieGurtis. All rights reserved.

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