Getting it Wrong
The helping hand meddled thoughtlessly
Until its fingers found the mistakes:
So, you wanted to rescue?
The pointy one smirked.
So, you wanted control?
The middle one challenged.
So, you sought out gratitude?
Hectored the fourth.
Or did you just want to look big?
The little one quizzed.
And the thumb turned a one-eighty
Into a thumbs down that said it all.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Fran Reader
would be pleased to