Greta Galore

Greta Galore sat slumped on the floor
Gasping in great heaving sobs.
The source of her hurt was a sweet little bird
That flitted and fluttered and bobbed.
“I wish I could fly,” she sputtered and cried,
“It’s not fair that I’m bound to the earth.
If I had wings I’d become the Sky Queen
And show subjects the span of my worth.”

High in the heavens flew Great Speckled Bird,
Benevolent giver of flight.
It heard Greta cry she was destined to fly
And gave heed to her pitiful plight.
Next morning when Greta got up from her bed
She found wings where her arms used to be.
She turn left and turned right admiring the sight
And gave out a great shout of pure glee.

Greta Galore would flap, swoop and soar
As soon as she washed and brushed teeth.
Her morning routine was to make herself clean,
So clean that everything squeaked.
She reached in a rush to grab her toothbrush,
It hit the floor loud like a drum.
In horror she gasped, “I can’t grip or grasp!
I’ve lost my opposable thumbs!”