I am a bunny
My ears go flop
And into big mud puddles
I like to hop, hop, HOP!
His Gracie bust into giggles as the mud flew everywhere, splattering her pretty green dress with patches of brown. She laughed and spun around in circles with her patchwork rabbit, her sweet voice echoing through the misty wood.
How she brightened his life.
Jefferson needed the girl like he needed air. She was sweet and gentle and kind, all bundled up in a pretty little package. Skinny as a beanpole, she was, but strong and stubborn as a mule, just like him.
There was nothing more precious in his life than her.
She carried the precious rabbit he made her everywhere, along the miles of winding roads and thickened forests that dotted the realms. Its multi-colored fur collected the leaves of the trees and splatters of mud and road dust as they travelled, like an odd scrapbook of all the places they ventured together. She adored the silly thing, keeping it close by her side no matter where they were.
That rabbit would help her whenever he left home, and when he sent her to the neighbors to be cared for.
That rabbit was his only connection to her when he had work to do.
For of course he had sewn part of his soul into that silly little patchwork rabbit, into each and every stitch. He was there in the button eyes, crooked mouth, and the fine, thin whiskers on its cheeks.
A March Hare he was indeed, and it comforted him to know his daughter adored the rabbit so.
For he knew that rabbit would stay with her, regardless of if he and she went together or if he went alone.
It would always be with her, in case he was ever to be too late for tea.