The Telephone
A human lived all by himself, alone
In his old mansion built of stone.
To combat his great loneliness
He bought some friends he could caress.
He bought a dog, some goldfish, too
And then a feathered friend, a cockatoo.
At work he now was happy as can be
Just thinking of his animal menagerie.
The animals had brought him plenty joy
But still he found, at times they could annoy.
One Friday he left work quite late for home
And just as he arrived he heard his phone.
He hurried and he promptly left a fingernail
As he in haste brushed up against the patio rail,
Then sailed around the corner where he met
A ladder he had not returned as yet.
He next got tangled with his welcome mat
Where first he stubbed his toe, and then he sat.
As he got up his head hit hard against the door,
And then he dropped the house keys on the floor.
But finally the door swung open wide
That's when he noticed as he stepped inside
It was no phone that he had heard,
It was his brightly colored imitating bird.