(written by her request for my younger granddaughter,
who loves pandas)
There is a panda in my parlor.
She does not choose to speak
(For pandas do not talk).
Instead she sits there staring,
Her eyes in spectacles,
Puzzling in her panda mind
What kind of beast am I,
No claws, no fur,
No joy for bamboo brunch;
Pondering perhaps
(With Christmas close at hand)
If I’d make an entertaining
Cuddly toy.
©2017 John I. Blair, 11/22/2017
No comments:
Post a Comment