Friday poem

I'm posting an original poem every Friday for a year. This is 9/52. On the cancellation of classic children's books.

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"Oh, the stories we won't tell!"

I really don't have a good excuse

So I apologize for reading you Dr. Seuss.

There are a few more things to get off my chest:

The ducklings in Make Way had synthetic nests;

Thomas the Tank Engine burned dirty coal;

and the little engine really couldn't (he lived on the dole).

The very hungry caterpillar had an eating disorder and

they arrested Paddington at the Canadian border.

And while I'm at it, now I remember

Pat the Bunny identifies as non-gendered.

The giving tree couldn't give any more

And now is just a nice chest of drawers.

George was too curious and had to be let go;

I hear he's happily married in Idaho.

They prefer not to be called monsters just because they're under the bed

and Horton didn't really mean what he said.

Charlotte's Web is specist, The Borrowers overdue,

and Harriet the Spy didn't have a clue.

Alexander is entitled to his very bad day

Bert and Ernie were roommates. Well, who am I to say?

Eloise was only crying out for attention--

maybe that's too obvious to mention.

Amelia Bedelia was on the spectrum,

and Eeyore needed meds but no one would get 'em.

A bunny threatening to run away we should take seriously

And Miss Nelson is still missing, mysteriously.

Madeline didn't really have appendicitis--

she's suing the school for her chronic pleuritis.

A puppy shouldn't be labelled poky just 'cause he's slow

But most tragic of all, now you're old enough to know:

Babar

Become a senatar.

Good night.