Fidget

Gimmicky look I gave the son

Of the mole faced heir in possession,

I walked to him with my gentle limp

And asked him quietly, from my lips

I said to him, what in the world are your plans

He fidgeted and clearly I could tell

He hadn’t thought the answer over much at all

Sweat beaded upon his brow

His tongue fled to the roof of mouth

He did not speak, not a whisper

But the glossy stare said it all

There they were

All in line

Extending hands

Looking for their escape

He looked to me and asked for help

I was shocked at his request

As I’ve never been in such a shoe

But I did what I could do

And blocked his way through the crowded zoo

Pushing, scraping, screaming, yelling

I got him to his car.   He thanked me for my assistance, shook my hand and drove away.