Her little eyes wiggle in the sight of something getting fast
And I never knew that someday that would pass
Some furry lad obtaining paw that can slip away your cast
But my lips turn downward, as I see her walk away and crash
These little hands of mine will always miss to touch your ginger fur
For you were always there, fish or no fish, what could I ask for more?
A little fury friend, casted in a costume with a lightning soul
Please never forget what was your significant role
Cause in this dull days of mine, you dig a hole that fulfill something, makes me suddenly fine.
Paddle aways little fury friend, wait for me as I stood in a line
YOU ARE READING
One Hundred Fifty
RandomFifty, Fifty, Fifty A writing challenge for myself is to create fifty poems, fifty essays, and fifty one-shot stories, every single prekeng day to make it a hundred and fifty days of honing my skills and giving sparks to my interest. Here's the deal...
