It’s not easy to say this — I’ve got to come clean,

‘bout the problems I’ve caused, in the places I’ve been.

 

To be Poppy’s underpants has been my fate.

I could ruin her life if it’s not yet too late.

 

You can’t really blame me for not liking the dark;

making her throw off her tights right there in the park.

 

My underpants are funny!

 

Poppy’d scream from above

and she’d reach down and give me quite a rude shove.

 

What happened to summer? I’d solemnly reminisce.

The fresh air and sunshine, that’s what I miss!

 

What’s with all the tights that pinch and squeeze;

just let me out, I don’t care if you freeze!

 

So I made life miserable for that little kid;

I know that I shouldn’t but that’s what I did.

 

Sit still!

 

Her mom would constantly yell.

I just knew in Poppy’s eyes, tears were starting to well.

 

My underpants are funny!

 

Poppy’d repeat;

as I kept slipping then gripping, letting her take the heat.

 

Poor Poppy, she said I was driving her crazy,

I overheard her cry to her best friend Daisy.

 

Is it me? Is it my bum?

I must figure this out cause I’m feeling quite dumb.

 

I squirm and fiddle – I tug at my middle.

They never feel better, not even a little!

 

The day soon arrived when things came to a head.

It was a battle of wills like no other — it’s said.

 

Little Poppy, more than anything, loves to ski;

but under those layers, I don’t wish to be.

 

Just off the lift at the top of the run,

was where I decided I’d have a little fun.

 

I started with the left cheek and then with the right.

Yup, I was up for a grand old fight.

 

Oh no, not here! Poppy shouted, aghast.

 

She’d have to think of something

and think of it fast.

 

Her mother, she knew, would tolerate no more.

Funny underpants for her had become a real bore.

 

If Poppy let out the tiniest whine,

Victory I knew would solely be mine.

 

Then I heard something strange; it was in Poppy’s voice.

What lay ahead of her clearly wasn’t a choice.

 

My underpants are funny!

 

But she took off like a dart.

To look at her mom’s face, she hadn’t the heart.

 

She wriggled and jiggled and flew down the slope.

If she was going to make it down, she could only hope.

 

Finally, my goal I believed was in reach.

These snow pants would be off and we’d move to a beach.

 

I clutched and pinched as she maneuvered each bump.

Little Poppy skied wildly, even taking a jump.

 

Her parents stood, almost afraid to look.

Then finally, in wonder:

 

Wow! Our little girl COOKS!

 

At the bottom Poppy stopped, her face full of snow.

Unbeknownst to her, she’d skied like a pro.

 

From the chalet, applause suddenly rose from a crowd.

Poppy ignored me completely as she rose and she bowed.

 

She’s ungrateful to me for all that she’s learned.

My part goes unnoticed; I’m feeling quite burned.

 

My season will come and I’ll soon be free.

Till then, Poppy must learn…

                   

                      I’ve just gotta be me.