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Jan 2021
Now rabbits are fine in the morning,
But I must now give you a warning,
When the time comes to make all the food,
Sometimes all they can be is rude.

One fellow who now comes to mind,
Was so private and silly and fine,
But his jacket of gold stood him proud,
And his voice was so sweet and not loud.

His mother awoke one fine morning,
Said "it's time" without any warning,
When the babies came early that day,
Little Timothy had nothing to say.

His brothers and sisters were wild,
But Timothy was tender and mild,
Never speaking long in his growth,
His mother loved him now the most.

All the others laughed when he fell,
Falling headfirst into a deep well.
Neither mother nor father aware,
One less rabbit, who really cares?

But Timothy lay lonely and sad,
Scared his parents yelling and mad,
When they learned what he had done,
Deep inside the well with no sun.

But his mother yelled, "where is my son?
Other rabbits, what have you done?"
No one spoke or told her of the well,
Or, how Timothy had so clumsily fell.

All the children stood silent and still,
Until one had felt bad and so ill,
"Mother, I pushed him into the well,
and I'm sorry, I hope you can tell."

All was good when Timothy rose,
Showing his little and small nose,
At the top of the well, he jumped down,
Ever smiling and not wearing a frown.

"No more ever silent will I will be,
I forgive you dear brother can't you?
Timothy rabbit now stood tall,
Finally speaking to one and to all.
Written by
Carl Gene Hardwick  65/M/Arizona
(65/M/Arizona)   
87
 
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