Sometimes, I like moving slow;

In other instances, I rush.

On a walk, I’ll smell twenty trees in a row;

Sometimes, I like moving slow.

Dad starts to wonder if he can see the grass grow…

Fill my bowl and I bolt like somebody yelled, “Mush!”

Sometimes, I like moving slow;

In other instances, I rush.

Prompted from Francis the Frenchie’s Daily Triolet Poetry Challenge at: https://francisthefrenchie.com/2021/11/10/francis-the-frenchies-daily-triolet-poetry-challenge-november-10-2021/.