A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows. ~Doug Larson, American journalist
There once was a wee Dandelion
Who said, “‘Tis true, I’m not lyin’.
Don’t call me a weed,
I’m precious indeed.
Who else can thrive without tryin’?”
There once was a crepe myrtle bush
That refused to grow tall and/or lush.
I watered and fed
The seed pods turned red*
Perhaps it just needed a push!
P.S. This is a limerick. This poor crepe myrtle has been moved three times now, in an effort to settle it in just the right spot. Glad I didn’t give up on it!
P.S.S. Time for a little blogging break — I’ll catch up with y’all soon!
There once was a stuffed Christmas goose
Who came to the house in a swoosh.
The dog gave a growl,
The goose gave a howl.
Who knew they’d be friends with a truce?
Note: Poetry form is a Limerick.
There once was a squirrel so sweet
Who climbed up the house to eat.
He perched on the sill
And sat there quite still
Until it was time to repeat!
Note: Poetic form is a Limerick. This little darling scales up two stories to perch on our window sill nearly every day. He usually brings a spot of food with him, too. Just look at his tiny hands!! Domer is home for the holidays, so I’m taking a few days off to play. Merry Christmas, one and all — I’ll be back soon!
There once was a wee little toad
Who hopped on a leaf as it blowed.
The leaf, it did swing;
The toad, it did cling;
‘Til the leaf unloaded its load!
P. S. Another Limerick. I thought this little guy was a leaf…until I poked at him, and he hopped!
The sky here is grey yet again,
As grey as ever it’s been.
The sun is hiding,
Its warmth subsiding.
We’re sick of this rain. Amen.
P.S. Irish girl ought to be able to write a Limerick (don’t you agree?!)