Life’s not easy when you serve a master
who’s genius burns like a brilliant flame
and although he causes each disaster
you’re always quite prepared to take the blame.
Take this latest case as an example
instead of digging up he chose to grow
a hydroponic arm within this ample
suspension of nutrients. See it glow.
So far so good. It’s floating in the tank.
But what happened when master’s plan got bolder?
I tried to warn him, but he will pull rank.
Now it’s my fault that we forgot the shoulder.
He’s docked my wages though they are quite meager
and told me in future to be more eager.
Filed under: sonnet, humour, management, poetry
