This poem is about a girl named Hidayah,
She's not as hot as fire,
But you get the idea,
She's trying so hard to lose all those spare tires.

Everyday she wakes up at nine,
To a cold air-conditioned room,
Her morning face so unsightly that the weak-minded goes blind,
Only the strong can avoid this doom.

But she's not all diabolical,
She fills your day with smiles,
She skips down roads giving away free popsicles,
And disappears down the mile.

But do not worry,
For Hidayah will return yes she will,
By bus or by lorry,
Just look to path by that hill.

She'll soon come back,
In our guts yes we know,
Hidayah will return to us,
Under the silver of falling snow.

Labels: Fun Stuff