What About a Tiger
She was a doll, but she did not like to be treated like one.
She created her own world, a world of fun.
She put herself into a cage and sneered and jeered.
The rest of the family ducked when she cheered.
She refused to wear clothes too; she was feral, our Meryl.
She is so delicate grandma said, a wonder, a pearl.
Let’s get her a giraffe, my husband suggested. I had no idea why.
But I went along with him, for he had a gleam in his eye.
Mr. G.Q. Giraffe was a gay blade, persnickety and picky.
He insisted on things his own way until things got rather icky.
They live in our house, but we refuse to deal with them.
Because they both do whatever they want on a whim.
How about a tiger? My husband asked me the other day.
That’s when I moved out and far, far away.
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