Beagle Ears Or a Baby's Bottom

What do you think of, when you hear the word SOFT? Is it gossamer spider webs, lining an old barn's loft? Could it be the fluff, from the dandelion seed? Or the down from a bird, whose been recently freed? Would you describe SOFT, in musical terms? Like Pachelbel's Canon in D, or the songs of terns? Is it possible to picture SOFT, as a pastel scene? Or maybe the vagueness, of a old fading dream. Might the caress of an eyelash, on the tip of your nose, Rival the feel and subtle smell, of an opening rose? SOFT could be a gentle breeze, in late afternoon. Or the muted chortle, of a parenting loon. Then there's the softness, of an old man's earlobe. And Cumulus clouds, that circle our globe. But I'll argue all day, or until my words are forgotten, Nothing's as SOFT as Beagle Ears-- or a Baby's Bottom.