Monday's Poem: Ten Mosquitoes

Ten Mosquitoes

A hot summer day with one of me,

a book, and a stool, and an apple tree.

Ten mosquitoes visited me,

knocked on my skin,

and asked to come in.

Ten mosquitoes visiting me.

One sat down to dine

and then there were nine.

Nine mosquitoes visiting me.

One asked for a plate

and then there were eight.

Eight mosquitoes visiting me.

One brought flour and leaven

and then there were seven.

Seven mosquitoes visiting me.

One had sticks to mix

and then there were six.

Six mosquitoes visiting me.

One landed with chives

and then there were five.

Five mosquitoes visiting me.

One begged for some more

and then there were four.

Four mosquitoes visiting me.

One came for some tea

and then there were three.

Three mosquitoes visiting me.

One thought I was stew

and then there were two.

Two mosquitoes visiting me.

One dove for my thumb

and then there was one.

One mosquito visiting me.

It yelled, "Cinnamon!"

and then there were none.

A hot summer day with one of me,

a book, and a stool, and an apple tree.

Twenty mosquitoes visited me,

knocked on my skin,

and asked to come in.

Mosquitoes, a stool, and an apple tree.

No more book and no more me.

                                      Anne Knowles