Saturday, 9 May 2015

The pink rabbit

A rabbit I was made to think
of. Rabbit! And it should be pink.
And in my mind the rabbit stays,
appearing in all kinds of ways.

I love it, how it fills my days,
quite numerous, the rabbit’s ways,
as I perceive it everywhere
a dear pink rabbit might appear.

Until the rabbit I do mind.
You see, it is a special kind.
It is attracted to the blue!
No longer, then, it can be due.

I think pink rabbits ought to know
they really cannot manner show.
Intelligent that thing is not
when it is loving blue a lot.

A psychiatrist made me think of a pink rabbit, and I did. I even was so dutiful I wrote a poem about it.

.·: † :·.

1 comment:


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