A Horse is A Horse

The cat in the hat, imagine that, he sat there and sat there until he had shat

The dog with a log walked through a fog he didn't get wet until he crossed the bog

The bird on a wire couldn't get higher until he'd tried to light a fire, that sure was a sight one could admire

A female e-mail, he thought he had written, he wasn't corrected until he was smitten. So he laughed at a kitten who coughed up a mitten.

He thought he was clever so he pulled on a lever. The bottom fell out and he dropped to his knees, so he pulled himself up and felt the breeze

He pulled on a string and the note rang true. He tried and tried but was still feeling blue

One sixth of the way, he was almost there. He ran and ran but fell down the stairs.

He looked at himself, but his image looked back. A curious sight it was to behold, he wondered and wondered until he got old

He checked his math while taking a bath but gave up counting while splashing the fountain.

The spell he cast was not for the weak. The earth it spun but not for the meek

He scrolled back up and read his stuff. It delayed the inevitable enough was enough.

He kept on going he knew not why. He was terribly gifted but terribly shy.

Why oh why. That was the question. He asked himself again and again. He ducked his chin and felt himself grin

He sure was cute, his mom always said, she knew him well until she was dead.

She could not die until he was gone, she of all people could do no one wrong.

People all people filled up the earth, desperately seeking the fountain of mirth.

To be happy and happy that would be heaven. But we're not alone. Someday some way he'd certainly prove it. He tried again but decided to screw it.

His father and mother would surely be proud. They'd take a peek from behind a gray cloud.

He followed and followed but was certainly lost. The cast had gone home, in the mid-winters frost.

Every day has its own special dawn. Every beautiful picture had already been drawn.

Six hundred words to end this long tale. He was almost there but felt like a snail.

That the words would come, there wasn't a doubt. As soon as he finished he'd let out a shout.

No edits nor slashes. No fancy back talking. A smack on the mouth would end that boy's stalking

He'd smoke up a brisket a package for sharing. It might stink up the house, but he wasn't caring.

Four fifty five was the count on his screen, he shined it and shined it to make sure it would gleam.

He lost track of the time, his watch it was lacking. He had measured himself, but found himself napping

His bills he had paid, his collectors were sleeping. He kept an eye open to keep them from peeking

He had killed some time, he knew he was winning. He kept smiling and smiling and still he was grinning

His train of thought it never kept running. Thinking and thinking would do him no good. He thought of that boy who was made out of wood.

When last his day's endeavor was done, he'd laugh and show everyone just what he'd won

A trophy or two would sit on his self, right beside that red grinning elf

A horse is a horse, of course of course and that ends this tale. It's par for the course.