Ode to Mudkips


It always starts the same way:
"I heard you like mudkips," they say.
A smile then graces my lips
And I must cry "I love mudkips!"

Oh, how I have come to grips
with my affection for mudkips.
Their subtle form, their orange gills,
their blue beauty overcomes me with thrills.

Oh, sweet mudkip, asleep in the soil,
he must tire of his boulder-lifting toil,
and we know it is a blessed creation
as his tail fin propels him with powerful acceleration.

It uses his head fin to carefully detect
changes in air and water suspect.
And thusly it is I he protects,
so mudkips I love and respect.

Oh, I know it may be a cliche,
when "I heard you like mudkips," they say,
and my love I must display
so "I love mudkips," I pray.