The Capsicum and the Prowler

Dressed to the nines in its foliage of green
Sprightly, straight-stalked, keen to be seen,
Flaunting the glory of its capsicum flower,
Today is its story, its finest hour.

Safe in his nest in a tree nearby,
Relishing the sounds of eager passersby,
A possum rests, feeling safe from his foes,
Waking to shuffle-off his daylight repose.

Tidying the lounge-room preparing for bed,
Thinking of the capsicum down near the shed,
Drinking in the night air, plundering its chest
The garden, its nutrients, are shared with the best.

But a hungry possum is out on the prowl
Ignoring as friendly the vicious night owl,
Focussing his snub nose he breathes capsicum,
Just stalks remain, his legacy to Mum.

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