The Jogger

Rouse in the morning with yawn and creaks,
The jogger dressed and drank in a nick.
Off he went out of the bricks,
Into the mist of the early mist.

As the jogger jogged and huffed
People began to stare and looked at him buffed.
The jogger wondered with a puff,
But still continued as he let out a cough.

On and on he went and met more people,
As he watched them stretch, run and do some jiggle.
The jogger slowed down little by little,
When he finally came to a stop feeling feeble.

Alas, it is time for him to go home,
All sweaty and dirty like a garden gnome.
People still stare as they saw him roam,
Farewell dear jogger, next time bring a comb.


A hearty laugh of a poem.




Stranger Passing-By                                                                                                                     SP-B/03/26/12