Their tears were noneless real
No squeezing back
They flowed profusely
Dimming sight
Rubbed off cheeks
With thumb and knuckles
Hilarious the thought
That image, imagined
"We'll have him miniaturized
Like a shrunken head
And hand him dangle fashion
With a piece of yarn
Looped over the rear view mirror
Like some do--a baby shoe."
The concept growing more ridiculous
By the minute
Each adding a descriptive touch
"We'll mold his lips
Pursed just so
Under shriveled nostrils
And point gold toes
On tiny socks."
He will ride with us
An icon mascot
When we drive to Toledo
Or through the Windsor tunnel.
Author: D. M. Corgiat
Copyright