What are we, my friend?
Not rabbits from the same warren,
yet we share our carrots
and the hidden burrows of our grief.
You may not know my deepest lows,
yet somehow you still make my spirit binky
on the most ordinary afternoons.
A single glance from you brings calm,
and my worries scamper off
at the funny sight of your face.
Maybe it’s just a classic friendship,
but I find it rare—
all the joy of the hop,
the comfort of a bunny’s quiet heart.
Its wonder: a small, white fullness—
a whole life, softly living itself
right to the brim.
Nov 24, 2025
Nov 24, 2025 at 1:08 PM UTC
What are we, my friend?
Not rabbits from the same warren,
yet we share our carrots
and the hidden burrows of our grief.
You may not know my deepest lows,
yet somehow you still make my spirit binky
on the most ordinary afternoons.
A single glance from you brings calm,
and my worries scamper off
at the funny sight of your face.
Maybe it’s just a classic friendship,
but I find it rare—
all the joy of the hop,
the comfort of a bunny’s quiet heart.
Its wonder: a small, white fullness—
a whole life, softly living itself
right to the brim.
