A most unexpected compliment

The following was written by a very dear friend of mine and surprised me beyond what I thought possible. To pay due respect to this wonderful young lady, I left the email intact.

I’m not a poet, and never will be.

But I just had this little whim of a thing come to my mind about a dear friend. I don’t need to say his name—you’ll know him and he’ll know himself in this, too.

Here’s to you, my favorite humorist. Yes, my modern day Mark Twain.

–Carol

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“In His World” (A Poem, Sort Of)

In his world, kittens talk.

In his world, kittens go to church.

In his world, vampires thrive on catsup.

In his world, vampires aren’t named Dracula.

In his world, vampires are named Clyde .

In his world, candy corn is planted by wonderful little boys named Jared.

In his world, coffee cups fill themselves.

In his world, the same coffee cups rebel against cheap coffee.

In his world, any ol’ object can come alive, and

In his world, you’d better look out if you’re an inanimate object, because

In his world, you just might become the main character in a story.

In his world