Nuts

​

Three acorns live inside my pocket,

All wear googly eyes.

One claims he's Thor on Tuesdays,

one whispers to the skies.

The third refuses titles,

but insists he owns the moon.

I asked them for their mythos...

yet once again they promised one by noon.

But instead they stole a button,

declared my pocket Rome,

and crowned a lint ball emperor.

I think I'll call them home.