BUNNIES DON’T LIVE IN THE CITY, MY DEAR
A Picture Book Manuscript
Granbetty and I are taking a walk.
We take many steps, as we talk.
We wave to friends who sit on their stoops
Even the guy tossing a hoola-hoop.
But on this day I see something new
I almost missed it as it hopped over my shoe.
Granbetty didn’t see it, but I know what I saw
And point to the footprint left by its paw.
“Bunnies don’t live in the city my dear,
They live where it’s green, and there’s no park near here.”
We hear a small rustle and turn just in time
To see a small bunny, the color of a lime.
It freezes for a moment until I move fast
It takes off like a rocket on full blast.
Down the alley it goes lickety-split
I try to catch it, but Granbetty says, “It’s time to quit.”
Back home, we do finger paints, but all I can draw
Is a lime-colored bunny with a paint-covered paw
Is it playing with its Granbunny or in a hole all alone?
I ‘m not going to feel good until the answer is known.
After our nap, we walk back to the spot
Where we first saw the bunny go hoppity-hop
We make bunny noises with our teeth and tongues
From a hole in the ground, the lime-bunny sprung
Before I can blink another appears
But this bunny has a pink puff on its rear
Soon we are greeted by as many as ten
They giggle and wiggle before returning to their den.
I wave goodbye before turning away
Happy that city bunnies have a place to play.
Now everyday our bunny pals greet us near their hole
New friends in the neighborhood, as we take our stroll.