My Octopus By Brenda Chapman Illustration by Robin Chapman
Your tentacles are purple poems;
Your eyes a bulbous blue.
O cephalopod, O cephalopod,
What wouldn't I do for you?
I'll shine your beak, I'll clean your vent,
I'll paint your suckers red.
I'll take you down upon the beach
And wear you on my head.
And when you die (as we all do),
Not buried in the sand —
But made into an octo-stew,
Though by a loving hand.

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