There was a goat in our garden,
It did not bleat, it did not stamp,
it only stared.

I offered it a blade of leaf,
a peace offering, I daresay.

It did not go well,
It did not care.

There is a goat in our garden.
It does not bleat, it does not stamp.
It only stares.
And there it stays, as it wishes, it seems.
At least to this day.

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Felt like doing something high contrast. Wrote something to go with the idea. Eh.

Based on true events when we used to have an orchard.