Those ants they found, prostrate and drunk as skunks,
They were the ones who went MIA last month.
Their mission was to free a captured mate,
A crystal bowl of sugar sealed their fate.
They climbed inside it, seeking to regain
Their strength, but then surrendered to its lure.
Now they will face court-martial, I’m afraid,
And if convicted, they will hang for sure.
Poetry in Three (or more) Languages. [FOR THOSE OF YOU VIEWING THIS SITE ON A MOBILE DEVICE, PLEASE READ THE POEMS IN LANDSCAPE ORIENTATION FOR THE SAKE OF CORRECT LINE BREAKS.]

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