Pigment

Pigment

There once was a porker named Pigment

who blends in no matter the figment

he holds very still

to avoid Butcher Bill

then grunts off in snorts of indignant

Pigment chills when he wallows in mud

blending in ‘til you think he’s a spud

when he spots Butcher Bill

he submerges in swill

and disappears under warm, crusty crud

Pigment loves swirling colors that pop

and directed V Rae when to stop

the portrait hangs in his pen

as a memory for friends

when Butcher Bill has the final pork chop

 V Rae