My Posh Pod
by Rachel Hoyt
The walls would be navy
with sparkles attached
and padded so comfy
that new dreams would hatch
while everything outside
just crumbles and melts
and my smug, non-chapped hide
enjoys petting felt.
If I spent a million
or more to survive,
that saving dominion
would comfort and guide.
No pod pink slip will wear
my name in dry ink
until it can compare
to a human link.
With soft straps to hug me
and knowledge to teach,
my pod 'pop' would be the
dream cash helped me reach.
© 2012
Rachel Hoyt. All rights reserved
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