Otis walks in a world of change,
Corporate nations fight for power…
He bucks in fun like a pony,
Then stops to sniff a flower.
Little white boots march,
Down the beach road late at night.
When in a Boxer’s innocence,
He spies a rabbit, with delight!
He freezes, body in full alert,
A catch like that would make his day…
My sixty years of wisdom know,
Some rabbits always get away.
Still Otis thinks the hunt is pure,
He prepares, fine tuning his art…
I allow myself this tug of war,
Rather than break his heart.
While Otis discovers a greatness,
In a world where my dreams feel spent…
He shows me the joys of new wonders,
Worth the price, he’s heaven sent.
The hunt is the best part. There will always be other rabbits.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I will hold on to that comment as wisdom pertaining to everything other than rabbits also!
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