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?”
” 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!”