Weasel
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There lives a puppy named Weasel
She's almost big as a diesel
Artists paint her on their easel
She can be found digging up bones
Her heart is as wild as a deer
She's amazing - she's without fear
Her hair grows in spite of the shear
She eats so she may get gallstones
Her mind is stirred up by the cats
At night, she'll chase after the bats
I once caught her chasing the rats
She is spayed but still has hormones
Her time is spent near the river
Sometimes, she eats things like liver
Her soul is kind - she's a giver
On the web, she uses our phones
Her joy is found in hues of pink
She'll pick that one without a blink
If you pet her, she'll give a stink
Living with her gives me love tones
Her light falls soft on any heart
She's lovable, warm and so smart
Yet, she may smile, look up and fart
When she visits vets she gets cones
Her life has been one filled with hope
Mind, soul and spirit, she can cope
She is happy - won't ever mope
I promise, my heart, Weasel owns
Tall Tales 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser
April 6, 2022
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2022
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