The Pump that could not Sump

By Michael Kozubek

Once when I was away,

it rained and rained for days.

Returning to my castle,

I peered through the rooms below,

and squish, splosh,

water-skied across

the squeaky, soggy carpet.

A pump

that couldn’t sump

made me a horrible grump,

frightened by the sight

of the horrible blight, my plight:

water, water everywhere,

heaving lumps and bumps and humps,

but not a drop did my pump sump.

Oh me, oh my, I turn for help,

“Help!” said me.

“Squeeze me,” said the bloated sponge.

“Dance with me,” cried the braided blond mop.

The plumber said he could fix it.

“I’ll drain you sure”, said he

and sure he did:

in an instant

burble to gurgle

my savings dove

squish, ker-plunk, turtle.

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