A Poem is Born

A Poem is Born.

Not that anybody notices,

or stakes a claim

to have been My Human

My human …

gives me food.

My human ….

gives me water.

My human …

gives me love …

and protection …

and a place to stay …

and so much more.

If your human

doesn’t give you all these things …

then they darn well oughta!

‘there at the birth’

or to have inspired its name.

No, it casually slipped into the world

without a cry of birthing,

or the taint of original sin.

I chose to call it ‘Arthur’

after the mythical leader of the Britons,

although, I’m not that sure

if it actually has a gender,

or an agenda –

it might be a Brenda,

the mythical leader of kittens,

mittens, and once shy,

twice bittens.

Anyway, a poem was born,

and that is all you need to know.

“Happy Birthday, Arthur / Brenda!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s