9 December 2012
There once was a baby named Ben, Who escaped from his little play pen. These rhymes tell a tale, Of what now prevailed, Every night, 'til the grand age of ten.
One day, when Ben was barely one, He tripped, and fell in his bum. He came across a key, That his dad and mummy, Didn't want him to find, as he'd run.
They key was to unlock the gate, Which Ben had actually grown to hate. So from what he had learned, Popped the key in, turned, And walked away, without wanting to wait.
He ventured to the front door, No sign of mummy! Cooking tea for four. His older sister slept, While out the door, he crept, Dying to see so much more.
Out into the garden, growing very dark, He looked around, thinking where to start! There's so much to see, But he should move quickly, As his dad was getting ready to park.
He walked from his car, to the drive, While Ben stressed, trying to hide. When his dad closed the door, Ben fell to the floor, Relieved, getting cold like ice.
When he turned to walk down the street, Ben stood still, something moved at his feet. He looked down to his toes, Something wriggled! Oh no! So he ran back to the door, white as a sheet.
For nine years, Ben would repeat this event, Every week, though not time well spent. For Ben will never know, That what wriggled his toes, Were the hedgehogs that his mum had sent.
Explorer • Opuss № I