The Little Rabbit

Of rabbit I was made to think.
Of rabbit! And it should be pink.
And in my mind the rabbit stayed.
All kinds of ways that thing obeyed.

I loved it how it filled my day.
Quite sensible, the rabbit's way,
as I perceived it everywhere
a dear pink rabbit might appear.

I think the rabbit I did mind.
You see, it was a special kind.
It was attracted to the blue.
No longer then it could be due.

I think pink rabbits ought to know
they run to where the blue skies glow.
They hop along the twilight's edge
and balance on the sunrise ledge.

Pink whiskers twitch in morning light.
They greet the day with sheer delight.
With wiggly nose and floppy ears
they chase away the twilight fears.

In meadows, where the flowers bloom,
that rabbit would dispel my gloom.
A flash of color, something new.
But, mine loved being in the blue.