Pomi the Poet

“And? Are you ready?”

Pomi was sitting high up on my dress form conquering my attention.

 

” How did you get up there?” I asked.

” Why do you want to know?”

” Because I want to know if you can climb back down.”

” Do not worry!”

” But I do worry. It is dangerous for you to be sitting up there. You could fall down.”

” I will be fine.”

” I am not happy about you sitting there.” How had Pomi managed to climb up the dress form? He could not be left unattended for one moment, my little adventurer.

” You can type now.”

” What?” Bemused I looked at Pomi.

“You can type now. ” He repeated.  “We said I was going to write today’s post so  let’s get started.”

” You writing today’s post means you are going to dictate and I am going to type, do I understand that correctly?”

“Yes. That is what we are going to do because my typing is very slow.”

“Go ahead then!”

” I thought I could help you to write

  your blog for I thought that it might

  be a splendid idea

  to be scribbling here

  and you would not stay up all night.”

 

” A limerick?”

Pomi  smiled.

” There was a crochet guy named Pomi

a doll and so very dear to me

when I said he could talk

the whole world was in shock

and they thought that I was a loony.”

 

Pomi was laughing.

” What do you think?”

“Very nice, you are quiete the poet, arent’ you?”

” Yes I am and now I am hungry. Help me down .”

 

“What would you like to eat?”

” Cake. Chocolate Cake. With  Almonds. Let’s go to the kitchen!”

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