I have a flying pig at home
Who’s going through his teenage years.
He stays out late and chews my gnome
And when it’s bath time, disappears.
I don’t know what to do with him,
He never does his chores on time,
But every now and then, on whim,
I’ll hear him sing a joyful rhyme:
“I am a flying pig, it’s true.
I love to soar up in the sky.
I may blend in, I’m also blue
And white – you have to train your eye.
It bugs me when I hear the phrase,
‘When pigs fly’, as if they never do.
I want to cry out, Upward gaze!
I’m flying here, but why aren’t you?”
Copyright 2013 © Sonya Annita Song