Seeing that today’s prompt is "opt," I went looking for words that contained that fragment. One of those words was "lepidopterist," a person who collects butterflies…
Devotes his days to hunting butterflies.
The leopard, through some feline mental twist
Would rather hunt the lepidopterist.
That’s why I never adopted lepidoptery
I do not wish to live in jeopardoptery.
I’m not much of a poetry fan, but one poet I do like is Ogden Nash. One day, Dad shared a book of Nash’s poetry with me, The Private Dining Room, a collection of the poems he wrote for The New Yorker prior to 1952, which was when the book was published. There were a couple of poems in there that dealt with Old Dr. Valentine, including this one, "Old Dr. Valentine To His Son":
Your healthy patients will die.
I have only this word to give:
Wonder, and find out why.
And there was this limerick:
He’s making fantastic amounts,
He’s invented a bra
That delivers more bounce to the ounce.
There were many other poems in that collection, some of which I only know the first couple of lines, like the one that starts "I don’t travel on planes, I travel on trains."
Dad died not long after sharing that book with me. I remember I kept it for a long time after.
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