Muriel May Macarthy, tripped over the caretaker's cat.
She spun on the spot with her legs in a knot,
And fell flat, with a splat, on the mat.
Muriel May Macarthy, desperate to run, to compete.
Gave chase in a race, without tying her lace.
She was beat. Her defeat was complete.
Muriel May Macarthy, was a thoroughly sad little mite.
Till she spotted her right shoe, on left foot.
And the other one, left, was on right.
Poem © 2013 Em Lynas
Illustration © 2013 Amanda Lillywhite