What Lives In This Mole Hole House
My imagination skipped a beat
Swallowed hard, spun around
Tried to find answers in the woods
The trees were silent
Would a gnome come out?
A mouse?
A ground hog?
I sat on a rock and pondered for an hour.
Watching the mole hole door like a hawk.
Nothing came out sadly.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2023
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