Floppy ears, cotton tail and whiskers. Eating Carrots out of the garden and lettuce heads out of the patched rows. Oh brown bunny hiding among the leaves, how you annoy me in the summer heat. I labor and sweat over the broken earth only to lose my toil to you as you wait for my seeds to be given birth. What a sight you must see from your lowly position, hunched in the thick briars waiting for buds to shoot forth. A feast for a vegetarian king, succulent morsels to be sampled. A head of lettuce here a few carrots there, leaving a patch work of ruined vegetables and the loss of my sweat and toil. I clean my gun with ill intent for you, my disdained foe. Oh how I long for your demise. Then at the moment I intend to bring you down, I am thwarted to my surprise. No longer do you nibble at my carrots or dig through my rows, I see a truth that brings me low. For you oh brown woodland hare you are not my enemy, but tis only a part you play. For my granddaughter has adopted you and brings you to feast in her play. So I must let you live in a fashion, for while you may sample my succulent delights in passing, the truth be told your freedom has been taken from you. Now you are a child's plaything and thus in a form you have experienced death, as you will no longer gallivant freely through my garden, but are at the pleasure of my granddaughter as her pet.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
Floppy ears, cotton tail and whiskers. Eating Carrots out of the garden and lettuce heads out of the patched rows. Oh brown bunny hiding among the leaves, how you annoy me in the summer heat. I labor and sweat over the broken earth only to lose my toil to you as you wait for my seeds to be given birth. What a sight you must see from your lowly position, hunched in the thick briars waiting for buds to shoot forth. A feast for a vegetarian king, succulent morsels to be sampled. A head of lettuce here a few carrots there, leaving a patch work of ruined vegetables and the loss of my sweat and toil. I clean my gun with ill intent for you, my disdained foe. Oh how I long for your demise. Then at the moment I intend to bring you down, I am thwarted to my surprise. No longer do you nibble at my carrots or dig through my rows, I see a truth that brings me low. For you oh brown woodland hare you are not my enemy, but tis only a part you play. For my granddaughter has adopted you and brings you to feast in her play. So I must let you live in a fashion, for while you may sample my succulent delights in passing, the truth be told your freedom has been taken from you. Now you are a child's plaything and thus in a form you have experienced death, as you will no longer gallivant freely through my garden, but are at the pleasure of my granddaughter as her pet.
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