Ode to a poo,
Oh how you glisten, little turd.
I skip my breakfast to watch you float.
Float, poo, float.
You stink like a dog pile in a winter yard,
And you're brown as a crayola.
You stick out above the water,
Like a resting log in a pond.
I hate to see you go, but we must part ways.
I wave as you make your exit in the whirlpool of poo water.
Flush, flush, flush.