Rabbit, Rabbit how adaptive you are
You live in the city yet you still survive
And you know where to find food
And you know where to hide
At least in this city, no one’s hunting you
Except maybe a rare hawk flying by
Or dogs and maybe cats, but I don’t know
When you see me, you scramble away
Not knowing I mean you no harm
And admire you for how you survive
But if I had the time, maybe I could tame you
And we could be friends
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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