Longingly he looked out at the cold. "Have I no choice but to bake in this sun and grow old?" He wondered with sadness. What had come over his owner, some madness? She'd left him in the hot hot sun! He was dreadfully overheated with no where to run! Or had he? Maybe, just maybe… He peeked over the edge of the bowl And very cautiously stole A hesitant, cautious glance at what lay below. The table surface was not that far a drop! He cried, "I shall go!" "Nay!" "Stay!" cried his friends one and all But he heeded them not: he was not afraid of a fall. He shook hands with his friends who finally wished him well; Then he hurled himself over the edge and as he fell He felt very brave. His name was Dave. He didn't strike the surface very hard It merely shook him and jarred His teeth. He deserved a wreath. He cast off his old orange top coat, He hopes someone will feed it to a goat. He found a way outside and he's finally happy. He got married and has lots of young'uns who call him 'pappy'. He wrote a book on conquering heat, and was complimented by lord Beat.
He lived happily ever after. On top of a rafter. Not really, I just could think of another rhyme. He'll probably tell his grand-children how once upon a time…
Glad you liked it! After hitting "publish" it hit me that I might be altering the affect of the lovely picture!
Abigail, you are a poet!
I thoroughly enjoyed it!
You really should get a blog!
I am astonished.
Bravo.
🙂
Longingly he looked out at the cold.
"Have I no choice but to bake in this sun and grow old?"
He wondered with sadness.
What had come over his owner, some madness?
She'd left him in the hot hot sun!
He was dreadfully overheated with no where to run!
Or had he?
Maybe, just maybe…
He peeked over the edge of the bowl
And very cautiously stole
A hesitant, cautious glance at what lay below.
The table surface was not that far a drop! He cried, "I shall go!"
"Nay!" "Stay!" cried his friends one and all
But he heeded them not: he was not afraid of a fall.
He shook hands with his friends who finally wished him well;
Then he hurled himself over the edge and as he fell
He felt very brave.
His name was Dave.
He didn't strike the surface very hard
It merely shook him and jarred
His teeth.
He deserved a wreath.
He cast off his old orange top coat,
He hopes someone will feed it to a goat.
He found a way outside and he's finally happy.
He got married and has lots of young'uns who call him 'pappy'.
He wrote a book on conquering heat,
and was complimented by lord Beat.
He lived happily ever after.
On top of a rafter.
Not really, I just could think of another rhyme.
He'll probably tell his grand-children how once upon a time…