I thought chasing skirts was hard,
Until I tried catching
And I found that I could make Jack and Jill,
Get home safely to kill their father.
Spinning webs intricate within confusing patterns,
Became a pastime,
And I started coding stories,
Into programmed poems.
What do you do when you live in a river,
Your mother is no fish,
And you have to give her your gills?
You write her into beautiful colors,
And paint a submarine for you two.