My Auntie has a camera, and when I'm out at play
And see her coming with it, I try to hide away.
For oh, it is so bothersome to hear her, with a laugh,
Call, "Stand just were you are, dear; I'll take a photograph."
Sometimes, an angry lion, I have just begun to roar,
And all the children run from me to sneak behind the door,
When Auntie to our forest comes - why does she stop our fun?
I'd like to shoot that camera there with my wooden gun.
Perhaps, a fire engine, I am rushing to a fire,
While people loudly call for help as flames rise higher and higher.
I hurry toward the hydrant here, for oh! the flames are hot!
When Auntie with her camera cries, "What a fine snapshot!"
But then it doesn't seem to snap, so I must be polite,
And when she says, "Oh please, stand still, the sun is not just right,"
I have to pull up where I am, and see that house burn down,
For Auntie doesn't understand, even when I twist and frown.
She only says, "Don't squirm, my pet! Oh, what a cunning pose!
Your scowl is better than a smile," - so that's the way it goes -
A p'liceman or an admiral, no matter what I am,
I have to face that camera as quiet as a lamb.
A Victim
Helen Leah Reed
(1)
Poem topics: away, children, fun, house, people, smile, sometimes, sun, dear, rise, play, hear, face, door, laugh, angry, understand, hide, quiet, matter, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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Zunairah: Ur reading is so nice can't stand it I get enraptured to it
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