Ode to the Mather Raccoon

In case you thought we don’t have creative range, you thought wrong. Welcome to The Thrill sonnet corner.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:

your beady eyes, your fur striped gray and black,

your foaming mouth (due to your rabid craze),

and how you dive in dumpsters for a snack.

I think it’s cute you always wear a mask

like a thief who steals priceless works of art.

Would it be far too bold of me to ask

if for your next heist, you could steal my heart?

I want to tell the world we’re more than friends,

to shout it from the roof of Caples hall,

but then reality floods back and ends

my fragile fantasy when I recall

the tragic reason we are forced to hide

our star crossed love: you’re Mather, I’m McBride.

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