There’s a doodle
in my scribble.
I’m not sure how she got there?
There’s a scribble
in my doodle.
She’s got eyes, a mouth and hair.
I wish she could talk!
What would she say?
Would she tell me a story?
A scribble story
about scribble things?
She might sing me a scribble song
and then I could try to sing along?
Or, maybe she’d do a scribble rap
that makes my feet tap tap tap?
She might braid her scribble hair
while reciting a scribble poem
that makes no scribble sense.
Unless you’re another scribble
or a doodle that dabbles in squiggles.
Come to think of it...
I guess if she could talk I wouldn’t understand.
Because I haven’t learned enough scribblish
to know just what she meant.
JOIN BAXTER'S PACK for MONTHLY SHORT STORIES
Text and Illustration copyright © 2018 Jennifer Hart.