Poem -


His name is G.
A friend to me.

But who goes on spontaneous sprees 
And always flees
and pleads
when he is caught
stealing something that he should've bought

He says sorry
drives away in his lorry
brows knitted with worry.

This happens every day;
I always 
offer to pay
much to the police's dismay

Then I scold G
for going on sprees.

He apologizes, cries
And firmness dies
inside of me.

"I cannot resist!" G says
Whenever he makes a theft
leaving a whole big mess.

I've grown used to it.
His doctor tells me what G's got is rare
and I'll have to prepare
if he someday lays his prying eyes
on my valuable wares.
Even if I don't think he dares.

When I see him using one of his 2 special cups
Both inscribed with the word: "Hiccup"
G usually grins
And tells me I'm thin
Pours me some gin.

Despite all his kindness
I will retain my mindfulness

Lest one day he takes from me.