Growing up around all kinds of critters,
sure I have been bitten
by dogs and cats, a pet alligator, and even a
girl who with me was smitten.
But of the critters that
that left a scar,
it was a wild gray squirrel
the oddest of all.
It was resting on the playground that day,
when I approached it moved not,
and me being just six or seven
thought I was in heaven.
It's fur was soft and not a flea in sight,
and I should mention,
the squirrel seemed to enjoy the attention.
Then other kids did come around,
unlike me they made loud sounds.
They must have frightened my new pet,
cause that squirrel did wake from it's nap you see
and sharp teeth dug into me.
Blood shot everywhere,
the teachers were in shock,
the hospital I went,
and the poor squirrel, who was sick,
died before three o'clock.
I learned that day
that squirrels rest on the ground not,
and thankfully
I did not need a shot.
(Squirrel Attack, copyright Steven S. Walsky,2013.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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