Ode to a Door Stop


O little door stop, so proud and boldWith skin of fresh new flesh,
Barely able to withstand cold
How is it then you can stop a door?

Or is it just your size and shape
A thick, puffy wedge all dimpled and squishy
Are those toes firmly curled, I smell something fishy
How is it then you can stop a door?

You can’€™t be a foot, for a foot has protrusions,
No knuckle nor heel, no toe mound extrusion
Yet a print like a palm, contributes to my confusions
How is it then you can stop a door?

Ah but wait, if blown upon there is a reaction
And if tickled or nibbled, there is a giggle and distraction
Nay this doorstop is affixed to a baby, and to avoid an outpour
Perhaps I should remove them both from under the door

(written in the lesser known rhyme scheme: bambamic pentametre)

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