Monday, March 9, 2015

A Gnome Makes Three

Where did we leave that shiny thing Gary found yesterday?
Over by the old oak.
Which old oak?
There's only one old oak Ben, seriously.

Deep in the woods,
They are misunderstood.
Feared and revered.
Pursued, yet misconstrued.
In the woods lie their homes.
They grow little seeds,
That will soon become trees.
They single little songs,
That seem to go on and on and on.
And yet they are frightful,
But I find them delightful.
They growl in the dark,
When they hear my dog bark.
They sing in the spring,
When the first bud comes into being.
We might not see them all the time,
But they're there in every rhyme.
So don't pester or paw them,
Don't chase them or claw at them.
Leave one sock unmatched,
A snack, unpacked.
Plant a seed in the morning,
Try not to be too boring. 
And remember this one thing,
Gnomes like bling.
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