The Haquarious Twoo



A poem inspired by the wonderful world of Dr Seuss. Death is not as final as it seems.

The Haquarious Twoo is a most wondrous beast

Who loves nothing more than an aqueous feast

In willow pattern dishes made entirely of lint

Laid out on a table of nose-crafted flint.


All this in a tiny droplet of water!

It’s true and astounding but to tell you I ought-a

For a Twoo feels its most safest and soundest

When tucked up within a watery roundest.


Though Twoos do live in the strangest of ways

(In a manner to which we’d not live our days)

Never believe that un-made were their hays

Or their watery homes weren’t the finest of stays.


They marry, have driplets and laugh at things humorous

Which is why at the start I remarked how haquarious:

A word that well describes such creatures as these

Who live their magnificent lives in the sea.


Let me tell you a little about one of these beings

Miss Lucy Twoo who, at one hundred and threeing

Had lived a fine life and had quite a blast

And was happy with all her present, future and past.


She had a huge family of Twoo-drips and Twoo-drops

Whom she loved much more than pickles and jellytots

And they loved her in turn with full little hearts

Much more than red carts and little jam tarts.


Then one night, all snuggled ‘n’ buggled ‘n’ ruggled

Up into the sky floated Lucy Twoo’s bubble

The strangest of feelings, I’m sure you’ll agree

But one that filled her with heavenly glee.


Not scared or frightened to be twizzled and siphoned,

‘Up, up and away,’ she shouted quite enlivened.

All was quiet and nothing was changed

But there she sat soaring upwards un-reined.


She came to rest in a huge woolly cloud

Where Twoos she had lost in her life had a crowd,

All those she remembered she missed having seen

Even at the age of one hundred and threen.


Now little did you know, so for just you and me -

Woolly clouds are just the places to be

And surrounded by stars and floating free

Lucy Twoo smiled down at her sleeping family.


Next morning up woke the Drips and Drops

And they searched for their Lucy with her pickles and ‘tots

But they knew soon enough that she’d floated away

And a great deal of sadness took hold that day.


Though the story, I fear, is almost at an end

There are lessons to learn of Lucy’s ascend

There are thoughts to be thunk and comfort to be had

That’ll carry you through each day that is bad.


So listen though you are sad and your crying gets loud,

A whisper will come from a huge woolly cloud

And you’ll see, if you look up, the crowd you once knew

With their smiles still wide and still loving you.

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