Thumper

Thumper was his name
The little squirrels back leg was lame
Gave him bread every day at four
Sometimes he would come back for more

He would take the bread from my hand
then hop away slow
Sometimes other squirrels would intently
watch our show

They would steal Thumber’s bread
as he tried to get away
Thumper was lame and one night a racoon
abruptly ended our game

I think of thumper still
and probably always will
Squirrels still come by,
but Thumper makes me cry