Poetry corner

The Floral Hat by Margetea Flappys

Hattage.

To wither your hat so floral be,

That hat betched on fine memories,

Snunched from ericaceous bottled grasp,

Drunk from a hidden hip flask

Asked gurunder hats contentious tilt,

Fleeced of all its Mother’s Milk,

I mithered around a musky thunk,

And bothered memoires hastily shrunk

Madeleicly shong the beasts away,

Himpingly greened and kept at bay,

Bamping and fluntingly you beefed a chat,

Due to the gant of your floral hat