In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ode to a Playground | A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial.”
Good Flynn: An ode in haiku to a carousel.
Round and round we go.
Clockwise to a horsey show.
Ups and downs of life.
I used to ride a plastic horsey mounted on springs. I’d rock forward and back until one day the springs broke due to my weight. I was no longer a child and too old for the toy. That heavy piece of toy has been donated long ago.
Evil Kitty: That poem made me dizzy! The only ride I take is to the vets where they give us felines those nasty shots.
But my humanz makeup for our humiliation by offering us a playpen. I love the climbing tree and imagine a bird’s nest full of soft meat. It has wall-to-wall carpeting and peep holes to keep an eye out for trespassing humanz.
But my humanz downgraded it to boxes, like Maru, until a more sizable substitute is determined for the smaller living space.
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