It's a cheap food source,
For the young,
Running like icicles
To their tongues.
It's wiped on sleeves
Up to the elbow.
Or rolled for ammo
Between finger and thumb;
It's a missle
When aimed and flung.

And during the night,
We don't know how,
It's smeared on walls,
Pillows and covers,
And hardens on headboards,
Where it stays and hoovers.

If you're at home,
In need of glue,
Your nose provides
A stick or two.

Granda uses hankies a lot
To dig and pick at his Grandkids' snot.
Blow one nostril at a time
To thoroughly purge the wet green slime.

It harbinges our imminent distress,
When we spot piles of wet kleenex.

And lastly,
At the dinner table,
When no one's looking,
Then you're able,
To stick your ******
Beside last week's gum.
If Dad or Mom
Should happen to see,
Just reply,
’Snot me!