Gremlins that make your laptop glitch,
Sprites that steal left socks.
Imps that make your fingers twitch,
when you’ve misplaced the keys to your locks.
Making merry mischief to spoil your day,
Conspiring to make things go wrong.
They leave you in spasms of utter dismay,
Making your brain sing that awful song,
And there’s just no chance of escape.
They mess with your hair while you’re fast asleep,
Forcing it to look like a messy heap.
There’s no end to their glee.
Until they get bored and move on somewhere else,
And then they’ll leave you be.
carolinecuttingblog 