|Musical Cricket by Henry Walter Bates|
I'm sitting at my desk in my room.
I'm working on my latest project.
I'm hearing weird noises coming from outside.
I'm walking to the door.
I'm opening the door.
Once the door is open, I see my mother
crouched down talking.
"You're such a cute little fellow."
"Mom, who are you talking to?"
"Just a little cricket."
"Okay...why are you talking to a cricket?"
"Because it started talking to me."
"Hello." I jump. "Who said that?"
"It was me, a friendly little cricket."
"Crickets don't talk."
"Well, neither should birds, but they do."
"That's because they're parrots; they're smart birds."
"Well, then that makes me a smart cricket."
"Whatever; mom have fun talking with your little friend. I'm going back inside."
I walk inside and work on my project pondering
on the talking cricket and my mother talking outside.
"Since when do crickets talk?" I ask myself as I write it
down for my next writing project.
~poem inspired by dialog~