
Lyra herself, asking so nicely.
I sit in front of you so small
a plaything I bring, even smaller
I wish for you to throw the thing;
than I, you are so much taller.
back to you the thing I'll bring
to be thrown, but even further.
I wait and wait and wait and wait
but by my side it stays for longer.
I chirp and shout and plea and moan
only your hand may not reach for me.
You smile, I stare. The time has come
the "big-guns" I'll point at thee.
I lean back, my paws shoot up.
the thing will soon be thrown.
I stretch and reach to ask once more
but do not take, for it is my own.
About the Creator
Fox
I'm Fox,
I write short stories, usually of a science fiction nature. I also lend my expertise in tech and music production to my non-fiction articles.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.