My puppy makes pizza.
He bakes every day
In chef hat and apron
he’s quite the gourmet.
He’ll roll out some dough
and he’ll give it a toss,
then spread on a generous
topping of sauce.
He’ll heap it with cheeses
and mountains of meat,
but, still, it’s not something
you’d probably eat.
For though he makes pizza
with obvious flair,
it all ends up covered
with slobber and hair.
I found an empty cardboard box.
I made myself a fort.
I had to squeeze and twist and turn
and crumple and contort
to climb inside, but now I’m quite
embarrassed to report
I’m stuck inside this cardboard box
that’s clearly much too short.
Has anybody got a box
that’s bigger than a quart?
When Daniel went dancing that night at the fair
he leapt on the stage with his arms in the air.
He ran back and forth at a neck-breaking pace,
then back-flipped and cartwheeled all over the place.
He jumped like a jumping bean, bounced like a ball,
careened off the ceiling, and ran down the wall.
He flew through the room with an ear-splitting scream
till, shaking and sobbing, he ran out of steam.
The witnesses watching could see at a glance
that Dan had invented some new kind of dance.
They cheered and applauded. They gave him First Prize.
They cried, “You’re a genius in all of our eyes!”
So now, just like Daniel, from Finland to France
they sit on a cactus to start every dance.