July 9, 2017Poem
It all starts well
naturemortality
It all starts well
Playground swings
As pendulums do
Mud pies easily transported
Pebbles sorted
On a mechanical crane
She could sit on
The sand wet and heavy
From morning rain
Laughter abounds
On the skip to the slide
On the way down
A smile a mile wide
Turns into a frown
A pool of tears
A bottom soaked
Right through
At least it was water
Thank heavens
Not pooh
My fault of course
I should have known
The playground was my call
I am a grown up after all
Nobody likes an earful
Or blame for a wet bum
We came home
Very tearful
Her not me
Missed the chance of a
Nice cream tea
Her not me
But she had soggy pants
An episode of
Saint Vitas dance
She is as quiet now
As a mouse would be
Eating a treat
And watching TV