A Verse: Too Late, Son

Re-printed from “Time Wrinkles” by Nan

The plutonian hare was a-flurry.

he packed his valise in a hurry.

His quandary was great, insofar’s

he’d been invited to one of the stars.


Feebly came grandpa’s invitation–

weakly, from ion dissipation.

Through myriad light years it had come,

leaving thoughtful elder rabbits glum.


Oh little hare why scurry scurry

to pay a call on Grandpa Furry?

You had best take precious care

before you call on a forebear hare.



About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 82 now.
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