im that one girl who makes up poems about her lawn mower.

ode to the big red joy producer, arnold.

.......

oh arnold.

......

how i heart you so.

but sometimes i wonder if you will cut off my toe.

.......

you let me choose how low i want the grass to be and the speed at which we cut.

although your lack- of-padding- seat definatly kills my butt.

.......

you are very loud and racecar red.

grass and gas are what you are fed.

.......

but sometimes ants are your rare treat.

they all come crawling out of their little hills in tragic defeat.

.......

you make lots of pretty lines that are about as straight as a hula hoop.

but you can get creative -making a swirl or even a loopdeloop.

.......

"never go horizontal across a hill" or so the rules say.

but we just lean and do it anyway.

.......

there are many objects that tend to get in our way like trees, wells and hoses.

and we run into bushes parting them like they're the red sea and we're moses.

......

we've shared many good times together.

you make me feel like im soaring, light as a feather.

......

oh arnold.

.......

you fill my heart with so much glee.

and most improtantly, go perfectly with a snapple peach iced tea.