Sticky

 
Sticky fingers. Sticky lips. 
My elbow's sticky too.
In my right hand, a glass of milk, 
is stuck as if by glue.
My fork's stuck to my other hand 
my napkin to my face.
My mother seems to disapprove
She thinks I'm a disgrace.
Why am I sticky, smelly, sweet? 
There is a simple reason.
It's March in Maine and so, of course, 
maple syrup's in season!
 
Copyright © 2001, Robert Pottle 
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