You and Me

Fishing rods and reels
Facial masks and peels
Diffusers and oils

Flower pots and soils
Bookmarks and books
Crochet yarn and hooks
Tumblers and rocks
Cuckoos and clocks
Scarves and warm hats
Baseballs and bats
Diamonds and rings
Sauces and wings
Swings and slides
Grooms and brides
Pots and plants
Ant farms and ants
Brushes and combs
Gardens and gnomes
Babies and diapers
Windshields and wipers
Crackers and cheese
Forests and trees

All perfect fits, you see
Just like you and me

© 2024 Teresa Miles Kephart 

What Willy Joe Discovered

 

Willy Joe did not go looking;

He wasn’t on a search—

Just a normal prowly walk

Down the block and past the church.

He was just about reversing

When it stopped him in his tracks—

A door he hadn’t noticed

Nailed shut with metal tacks.

This derelict old building

He’d padded past before,

But he’d never gone exploring

Near that boarded-up old door.

First, he sniffed around (like always),

Found a gap—big as you please.

He was flexible and skinny,

So he got in there with ease.

 

When he stepped inside the structure,

There was quite a curious smell.

Just what scent he was smelling

His nose could not quite tell.

But when he heard the growling

And saw a big brown figure,

Willy Joe shot out that exit

Like an itchy trigger finger.

The bear gave out a bellow

And stood on its hind feet

But Willy wasn’t stopping

For a gnarly meet-and-greet.

Willy Joe returned home safely,

With lives to spare, at that—

But remained a curious sort;

Afterall, he was a cat.

 

© 2024 Teresa Miles Kephart