It whispered softly, a cheeky breeze,
a creeping culprit, it aimed to tease.
With quiet stealth, it made its start,
the unexpected, impish shart.
A harmless toot was all it seemed,
a minor gust, so neatly dreamed.
But sharts are pranksters, sly as thieves,
a naughty mark on pantaloons leaves.
Gas with mischief, a crafty grin,
it fills the air with laughter\'s spin.
A giggling chaos, oh what a plight,
the shart comes dancing into the light.
So heed it well, this tale so true,
for sharts will pounce when least you knew.
A curious blur, a sly surprise,
a jesting twinkle in its disguise.