The Digger

I have a secret, please don’t tell

It’s shameful and horrid I might go to hell

It happens each night, when all are asleep

And into my kitchen I silently creep

I’m careful of noise, quiet as a mouse

No one can know this happens in my house

Deep into the dark recesses, I reach down

Fingers fumbling, so cold, till it’s found

I smile as it opens, so full and lush

The stress in my brain begins to hush

I begin the shameful act of digging to find

The treats in the ice cream, they’re all mine

I leave the pint, mottled and sad

I’m an ice cream digger, I know, it’s bad.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: