Worm

Today I saw a fat dead worm
On New York’s far east side.
I wondered how it landed there
And where it did reside.

It lay, unmoving, on the sidewalk,
Glistening from rain.
Wherever it was headed to,
It made the trip in vain.

There wasn’t too much soil in sight,
A bit ‘round planted trees;
That worm was surely inching there,
Proceeding by degrees.

It probably got so confused,
In Yiddish, that’s farmisht;
And soon, before it knew what hit,
That worm had gotten squished.

A lesson can be learned from this:
Although you think you’re strong,
You take a chance by venturing
Where you do not belong.