
i was out chopping wood
‘neath a magical moon
when i came face to face
with a bear,
and i was quite sure
to be disemboweled soon–
but the beast stood in place
and just stared.
the moonbeams on my beard
somehow tranquilized him,
and i found i was no
longer scared,
so we went in for tea,
and he sat on my knee
while i read him the tale
of three bears.
–photo by son aaron
Made me smile!
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Thank you, Sandy! If I made you envision that last part, then my job is done. lol
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Well done, indeed!
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Wonderful, brilliant poem Michael! π€©π₯°β¨
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Thanks, Shelley!!
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Must have been terrifying! Glad it ended happily. π π΅π
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After reading that poem, before i go into the woods, i’ll stop shaving.
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If you stop shaving, Tom, you’ll have more time for important things; just don’t fall asleep under a tree for twenty years!
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