Anecdotal Poetry

She phoned when I was with my friends and said her computer wasn’t working.

I was to go round right away and fix it, tearing me away from my social life.

I got on my bike and made my way, hoping it was something simple that wouldn’t take long.

My mum was there. And my dad, who was equally capable of fixing the computer.

The computer wasn’t broken, it hadn’t even been switched on for months.

It was a ruse to get me there so they could give me gifts; I forgot to mention it was my birthday.

The gifts had a vehicular theme and the final box was small and beautifully wrapped.

The key inside was the same as my sister’s but the car it unlocked was all mine mine mine.

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