family

A Gift of Sixty-Four

Fancy wrap can’t hide from my eyes,

A gift that’s familiar in shape and size.

It’s the present that I adore.

They’re the toy that’s never a bore.

*

They’re a box of possibilities,

a forest full of Christmas trees.

A blanket of snow and garlands bright,

with a flicker of lights in the night.

*

They’re singing birdies just for me,

or a sailing ship on a stormy sea.

They’re autumn play and a summer breeze,

the colors of spring and buzzing bees.

*

With this one gift I’ll need no-more.

It’s a box of sixty-four!

There are colors for sad and more for glad.

They’re all perfect and none are bad.

*

What endless choices to be found.

But what is the color of sound?

What is the color of a kiss?

I’ll someday find those colors amiss.

*

They’re jewels in a treasure chest.

Something shared with a special guest.

We draw and print or color books,

while snuggled in our secret nooks.

*

I’m glad they float, though labels’ lost.

Nothing left to be peeled and tossed.

Then guides are gone for shades unknown.

But I’ll know them all, when I’m grown.

*

My cat swats greens under my bed.

My dog’s favorite to eat is red.

We all roll fast and giggle for more.

When they’re like bearings on the floor.

*

We build rainbows to the sky.

Stacked like logs to make towers high.

We lose the ones we like the best.

Then have extras of all the rest.

*

They’re a gift that’s always welcome.

They’re used up quick or saved by some.

Look what Harold did with just one.

My sixty-four are much more fun.

*

Stored neat in a box with a lid that flips,

and a hole on the back to sharpen tips.

Enough to share with all my friends,

we can draw a line that never ends.

*

Though mostly used sparingly,

tucked safe in a drawer, just for me.

They somehow seem to go away.

And just in time for Christmas day.

*

The End

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Spooky House

At the end of my street, quite near,

Sits the source of all that I fear.

Now a horror, once a jewel,

I run fast on my way to school.

`

Looms alone behind a high wall,

Watching me pass, the house sees all.

Hidden by trees most of the year.

But when fall comes so does my fear.

`

Autumn leaves drop, crunch under feet.

Out pops the house that haunts our street.

Halloween comes, chill in the air.

But trick-or-treaters won’t go there.

`

Lights never on, no cars in drive.

Shades always down, nothing alive.

I’ve heard stories, sounds in the night.

Of the house that causes our fright.

`

The shutters bang and hinges creak.

But no one dare to take a peek.

Many a ball lost over the gate.

Remember the score, game can wait!

`

Spooky shadows in the moonlight.

Ghostly shapes in the dark of night.

The vines on the porch creep and crawl.

Been scaring kids since mom was small.

`

Bats in attic, mice in the shed,

Phantoms inside or so it’s said.

Some say it’s empty, some say not.

Either way I’m worried a lot.

`

Off to bed one dreary fall night.

A bad time to turn off the light.

Mom tucks me in, we chat awhile.

She kissed my cheek, left with a smile.

`

My sleepy smile soon fades to fear.

When spooky house dreams soon appear.

I close my eyes and try to sleep,

Ran out of numbers counting sheep.

`

Outside shadows all a quiver.

Howling winds making me shiver.

I peeked from under my blanket,

The darkness said no sunrise yet.

`

I turned on the light to just wait.

For morning to come, that’ll be great.

Awoke to good news, called my friend.

Our sleepless nights where soon to end.

`

Someone bought the spooky old place.

Hopes to restore its former grace.

House got painted, bushes cut down.

What a great home, what a great town.

`

Windows fixed fresh grass on the ground,

Sunshine and flowers all around.

New families in, kids galore.

And I’m not afraid anymore.

`

We play in the yard, ride the swing.

We make up rhymes for us to sing.

Now my favorite place to be.

But once I thought the house spooky.

`

The End

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Ben to Sea

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I am Ben and I’m off to sea,

ships ahoy and aye, aye matey.

I’ll sail all the oceans blue,

or maybe just a chosen few.

*

Pack my coat and hat for my head.

Bring a blanket for my new bed.

Teddy must stay with all my toys.

Sailors don’t need them, just small boys.

*

I’ll have no school or boring chores.

Just climbing rigging, manning oars.

I’ll tie knots and tell sea tales –

of pirates treasure, storms and whales.

*

I’ll sleep at sunset, rise at dawn.

Then swab the decks not mow the lawn.

I’ll eat ships biscuit and dried peas.

But hold the weevils if you please.

*

I’ll make new friends, captain and crew.

I’ll polish the brass just like new.

I’ll travel to faraway lands.

See new faces, shake lots of hands.

*

I’ll grow muscles and learn to swim,

never a splash over the rim.

I’ll grow a beard and get a tan.

Mom won’t know her new little man.

*

I’ll write her name on my sea chest.

Then she’ll know I love her best.

I’ll miss my cat, sister and dad.

I hope leaving won’t make them sad.

*

But I’ll return with gifts for all.

Dads will be big and sister’s small.

Jewels for mom, fish for my cat.

Gramps will get a new sailors hat.

*

Now mom’s calling, bedtime is near.

My journey starts, nothing to fear.

My tub is full, ships wait for me.

Always too short, my trips to the sea.

*

I rub and scrub and have some fun.

Until mom says my bath is done.

Voyage over, out goes the light.

Snug in my bunk I’ll say goodnight.

*

The End

~

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https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/472790

Our Halloween Moon

When the sun sets we’ll shed our disguise.
Our true selves appear before your eyes.
The night’s ours this All Hallows Eve.
Treats are waiting if you believe.
~
We’re witches and ghosts, cowboys and queens,
all shapes and colors; blues, reds and greens.
We’ll knock on doors without a bell.
We know there’s candy by the smell.
~
We’ll look for lights because that’s safer.
Trouble’s not worth some stale old wafer.
Parents can follow if they choose.
Some might need them for shoes they lose.
~
When the moon’s high it’s best to get back.
There goodies sorted, eating a snack.
Then time for PJ’s, bedtime soon,
sleeping beneath our Halloween moon.

~*~
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Under Where!

A big scary monster lives under my bed.
I never saw their body but maybe saw their head.
Every night they whisper when I try to sleep.
But when my mom comes in she doesn’t hear a peep.
~
My dad moved my bed and even switched my room.
But it didn’t really matter, my nights still filled with gloom.
They brought me to a doctor to get my head checked out.
They said that they found nothing, but I still have my doubt.
~
My sister teases me just like the kids at school.
She says that I’m a baby and being scared isn’t cool.
Every day on the bus the kids all laugh at my expense.
But I know I’m right and I think that they’re all dense.
~
My teacher thinks I’m crazy and doesn’t talk to me.
She says that I’m disruptive and that school isn’t free.
The principal just smiles and asks “how’s my day?”
But when I try to tell her she always walks away.
~
When the school bell rings I can’t wait to get outside.
But the bus’s always there and there’s nowhere I can hide.
It’s good the ride is short and soon it’ll be done.
My mom will be waiting and she’ll ask if I had fun.
~
I’ll tell her no and that I had gotten teased.
She’ll make her twisty face and say that she’s not pleased.
I hold her hand tightly and we both walk back inside.
She’ll help me with my homework until my brain is fried.
~
Then we share a snack before a visit from my friend.
We’ll talk a bunch till supper but then the fun will end.
I’m glad to have a friend who listens every day.
They hear the same old stories, even though they’d rather play.
~
Next we eat our supper then I’ll suffer through a bath.
Bedtime must be coming soon and another night of wrath.
My door mostly closed and my nightlight’s set on high,
I rest with one eye open and watch the moon rise in the sky.
~
When the moon got small my eyes began to close.
The monster then tried to eat me and it started with my toes.
But finally the nightmare is over and yes I was wrong.
There was no scary monster; it was just my cat all along.

~*~
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Morning Triku #175 ~ Second Period

Choose Choice

Life’s multiple choice
Our answers lessen with time
Questions grow harder
~

Schooled

Fears prevail feared
Tomorrow’s today’s earned
All will rise, some learned

~
Chances Are

Life is bad when sad
Or grand when on clouds we stand
And glad for the hand

~*~
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Need

The more we have, the more we need

The more we want the more the greed

Living lives consumed consuming

Conned intoTo dwell in a time lush and green debt for things amusing

*

Day by day we run in place

Tracks grow longer on our face

The wheels of commerce set the pace

Rolling over this human race

*

Blinded by labels to make us feel

Sculpted by images to make us real

In the darkness all are blind

Disappearing piece of mind

*

To dwell in a time lush and green

The futures blight not yet seen

Waters’ pure cascading clean

Paths uncluttered, bodies lean

*

Family and friends share to survive

Living life to be alive

Preserving futures, planting seed

Thus is all we really need

~*~

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Adventure Day

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There’ll be no time for play today.

Because today’s adventure day.

We’re off to clean grandma’s shed.

Door so low dad bumps his head.

.

Lots of stuff for us to see.

Each thing has its own history.

There’s: rakes, shovels, mowers and pails,

Tires and wheels, old boat sails.

.

A big and rusty nut-less bolt

And a shoe for a shoe-less colt,

Sleds and skis, skates, paddles and oars,

Broken windows and old wood doors.

.

Crates and bins, barrels and jars,

guitar made from box of cigars,

Dad’s reaching for things up high.

Mom thumbs a scrapbook, tear in eye.

.

The treasure’s you find when you look;

cushion for chair and long lost book,

toy box from when dad was a kid

with missing hinge and broken lid.

.

I had to put that one aside.

To fill with treasure that I’ll hide.

And keep it safe for mom and dad

with memories, adventures had.

.

Sheds empty, our jobs half way.

Sifting and sorting all long day.

Next are lunch and maybe a nap.

Then spend some time on grandma’s lap.

.

To the street go things we don’t use;

hand less clock and half pair of shoes.

Forgotten treasures go away.

Some I’ll keep while others will stay.

.

It’s grandma’s play house in the shade.

But in the yard five piles we made.

One to save, two we don’t know,

one’s maybe, the small one can go.

.

So many things for grandma to do,

when our shed adventure is through .

She can paint pictures or pot plants,

maybe yoga – go in a trance.

.

A final sweep and all is clean.

The nicest shed I’ve ever seen.

Now’s time to put back things to keep.

All stacked neat, not too high or deep.

.

The dust is gone that made us sneeze.

But no space left for new hobbies.

Dads hurt his back, moms tummy aches.

From our lunch of burgers and shakes.

.

But grandma’s happy and me too.

We’re all glad the mission is through.

Our adventure had, job well done.

Memories made of having fun.

.

Dad’s old chest safe under my bed.

Memories tucked safe in my head.

And now’s time to say goodnight.

Adventure’s done, out goes the light.

~*~

The End

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Bunny

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I have a best friend, name’s Bunny,

whose age is just the same as me.

Sits on my bed, friends all around,

snuggling close we’re all safe and sound

*

We all giggle, think it’s funny,

when I tickle Bunny’s tummy.

Though sometimes sad, trickling tears,

they’re easily dried with fuzzy ears.

*

I get big, Bunny stays the same,

destined for greatness and world fame.

Written about in poetry,

posed for art and photography.

*

With brush in hand with which to paint,

She’s very patient, no complaint.

Anytime, rainy or sunny,

always there my best friend Bunny.

*

By my side always, journeys far.

My companion; plane, train or car,

sharing adventures in daylight,

sharing our dreams every night.

*

The End

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Journey’s Home

~

I’m not just me, I’m at least three.

One sailed far hoping to be free.

One steamed airless more recently.

The oldest walked a vast frozen sea.

 ~

With passing generations this matrix grows complex.

A boundless atlas made of tiny specks.

Paper lines divide the pages of our time.

Ignorance is bliss, blindness sublime.

 ~

Unfurl the man-made charts, the journey’s just begun.

The ship of fools adrift, nowhere left to run.

Invaders, settlers or immigrant be –

all driftwood from the churning sea.

 ~

Time whispers on the ever-changing breeze.

One-eyed pirates still plunder all the seas.

Children wander a water-less beach.

Welcome shade out of reach.

~

To find a paper line they roam.

To find a future to call a home.

Pages of the atlas grown,

each a page we call our own.

*

The End

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Empty Lot

Our empty lot’s not empty at all.
There’s a tree that’s big and tall.
It’s a place that kids love to share.
It’s on my street so mom needn’t care.

We spend sunny days in the shade.
There’s lots of dreaming in forts we made.
There’s bunches of dirt to dig deep holes.
Rainy puddles for toy fishing poles.

Our empty lot really has it all,
We hide and seek and sometimes play ball.
It’s the place where adventures begin.
A fence to keep the city out and us in.

We’ve bugs and spiders, squirrels and cats.
There’s soft grass to sit for quiet chats.
We see dogs on leashes and birds in the sky,
Some tweet, sing sweet, bark, run and fly.

There’s rope jumping girls and running boys.
Everyone brings their favorite toys.
Weeds make jungles for our tiny men.
Tiny cars get lost, then are found again.

A place on Sundays for dads to mow.
A place anytime where friendships grow.
When the days fun is done, we all say goodnight.
To our good old friend, under the street light.

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Sick Day

~

Bright sunny day, nothing to do.
Stuck at home in bed with the flu.
Watched TV as long as I could.
And did some homework, like I should.

.

I tossed and I turned, sipped some tea.
The warm fall day was mocking me.
Temperature stable, chills no more.
Then a knock on my bedroom door.

.

It was mom come to check my head.
Not hot or cold, then out of bed.
I passed her test, done with my rest.
Going outside will be the best.

.

But that is not to be the way.
Had to stay in another day.
Picked at supper, slept through TV.
Dad tucked me in then read to me.

.

Just to make sure that I’m all right.
Mom checked on me all the long night.
Slept Okay, woke ready to go.
But to do what I didn’t know.

.

Was really bored by midday.
Ran out of things alone to play.
Then found a key looking for more.
I tried every single door.

.

I checked and checked every lock.
I even tried the grandfather clock.
Every drawer, box and chest,
I checked them all, I did my best.

.

Found no treasure, just this old key.
At least it was something to amuse me.
With just minutes before my show,
Thought of another place to go.

.

The dusty, dark, spooky attic,
No place to be, when you are sick.
Turning the knob ever so slow,
Not sure if I wanted to go.

.

I’ve never been up there alone.
Then opened the door to the unknown.
Creaky stairs beneath my cold feet.
Dangers unknown that I might meet.

.

Darkness at the top of the stair.
Felt for the switch, I hoped was near.
With a flick my fear gone away.
More to explore on my sick day!

.

Much the same as when last here,
Boxes and cobwebs everywhere.
But not a lock to be found.
I searched and searched all around.

.

But in a dark corner never seen,
A little door painted green.
It had no slot for any key.
Opening it was up to me.

.

I admit I was very scared.
I stood for minutes and just stared.
Then lifting the latch, my hands shake.
Could this be another mistake?

.

Opened the door, hinges squeak.
Stuck in my head to take a peek.
The room’s empty, nothing at all,
Except a shelf high on a wall.

.

Found an old wobbly chair nearby.
Standing worried, reaching too high.
Pulled down the box hidden on shelf.
More than ever proud of myself.

.

I put in my key and it fit.
But wasn’t ready to open it.
I brought the box back to my room.
Into the light and out of the gloom.

.

Box on desk, took key from pocket.
Put it in slot, turned to unlock it.
Opened the lid ever so slow.
Not sure if I wanted to know.

.

What treasures lie hidden from view?
Something good or a pile of goo.
Lid half-open, footsteps I hear.
Then closed the lid when mom came near.

.

Mom opened it up, said to me;
“That’s no place for a dragon to be.
I’ve looked high and low, all over,
For the dragon Gramp’s called Rover.

.

He wasn’t a creative guy.
But could pluck dragons from the sky.
But only when they’re very small,
Safe in hand and curled in a ball.

.

Then hid for a terrible day,
When there are demons to chase away.
You can visit, never at night,
That’s when dragons grow, in moonlight.

.

So keep it tiny in its box –
Or they get huge and tough as rocks.
Some are sweet, most others mean.
That’s why it best to keep unseen.”

.

Closed the lid before I could see.
She turned the lock and kept my key.
“You don’t need to go by yourself.
Attic’s safe with dragon on shelf.

.

Put the box back and close the door.
And try not to think of it anymore.”
Back downstairs, ready for bed.
But now there’s a dragon in my head.

.

They can be all colors or shapes,
Some are purple and round like grapes.
Some are short, some tall as a tree,
Some are small and cute just like me.

.

I’m glad there’s a dragon upstairs.
Now I can sleep without nightmares.
Not such a bad sick day at all.
I got better and had a ball.

.

Now when nothing to do or see.
I don’t have to search for a key.
You don’t need keys to unlock a door.
That’s what imagination’s for.

~*~

The End

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My Hamper

It’s not just a bin for dirty clothes.

It’s a place to hide things where no one goes.

My favorite place for hide and seek.

No one ever dares to take a peek.

~

I could stay in there for a week,

But that’s too long not to speak.

And if I never change my clothes,

My hamper never fills, the pile never grows.

~

My hamper can be a chest for treasure.

With extra socks just for good measure.

Hampers are never quite big enough.

Always too small for all of your stuff.

~

The bigger the hamper the less room they take.

Fill it right up and room you’ll make.

Some hampers are big, some are small.

Some are just piles, some not there at all.

~

Some might have handles, liners or lids.

Some come with gadgets to keep out kids.

Hampers never hamper or get in the way.

They’re used for something each and every day.

~

Mostly an eyesore, mostly unseen.

Hidden in bedrooms, bathrooms or in-between.

They can be baskets or made of wood.

Plastic or metal but a bag’s just as good.

~

Hampers are magic – things disappear.

Then surprise, something old will be there.

A best friend to have on clean-up day.

They help to decide what can and can’t stay.

~

They can be luggage when away from home.

The smaller they get the further you roam.

Sometime my hamper is what I long to see,

A familiar moonlit shadow that keeps me company.

~

My hamper can be a rocket ship,

There’s always space for a lengthy trip.

Or submarine to explore the sea,

It can be anything; it’s up to me.

~

Some hampers have wheels for delicate dears.

Though not much help on dark cellar stairs.

They can be a target or a catcher’s mitt.

Or a moldy archive for clothes that don’t fit.

~

Sometime it sits lonely, quiet as a mouse.

Sometime screaming loudly – stinking up the house.

My companion always since I was very small.

The stories it could tell, we really had a ball.

~

If you’re sad or a little mad, I’ll share a secret trick.

Visit your trusty hamper and give it a little kick.

My hamper and I put on shows; I hope you all will come.

I sing and dance; make up tunes, my hamper’s the drum.

~

Sometimes hampers break, a leaning twisted thing,

Thrown away with no regard to all the joy they bring.

Replaced by a new one with very lofty goals.

Someday we might be friends when it gets some holes.

~

Whether sparse or cramped you need not have a fear,

The voids will always fill when imagination’s there.

Oh – I could wax poetically until the end of time.

But hampers full, its laundry day, time to end this rhyme.

~*~

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Too Cold To Go Outside

I woke today – weatherman lied.

I rolled over and I sighed.

Couldn’t sleep, eyes open wide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

There’ll be no swing set or slide.

There’ll be no walk or bike ride.

There’ll be no kites to be flied.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Today we have to play inside.

We’ll think of things never tried.

Stocking feet on floors we’ll glide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

We’ll build a fort for us to hide.

We’ll play dress up – you be bride.

Explore jungles – I’ll be guide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Time to dig a path that’s wide.

Getting dressed, boot laces tied.

Wind so stingy I almost cried.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

All’s warm, coats hung to be dried.

Find crayons, colors I’ve eyed.

Draw pictures for the fridge with pride.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Icy world all is gray sky-ed.

Plants droopy, looks like they died.

Bay frozen we’ll see no tide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Now sleep, teddies at my side.

Cold nights end, take it in stride.

Spring soon then winter we’ll chide.

When not too cold to go outside.

~*~

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Morning Triku #69

Rings True

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Mutually daring

Quintessentially caring

Lovingly sharing

~

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Howling

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Up before sunrise

Down by noon, dreading blue skies

Awaiting the moon

~

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Dimensionally Stable

.

Having thought outside

The box for so long, I’ve now

Become Tripolar

~*~

.

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A Holiday’s Warmth

In the land of the dragon when nights get long.
The air is cold and the wind is strong.
In caves they’ll gather all cozy and warm.
But first, they’ll prepare before the big storm.
~
The holiday’s near and another year’s treat.
Moms and dads busy to make all things neat.
The children make dangles to dress up their tree.
Then off to slumber for a week, two or three.
~
Their parents when done with winter chores,
warm their homes and open their doors.
The children then wake to a new winter’s white.
And gaze at trinkets secretly left in the night.
~
There are mittens and hats for the littlest of tikes.
There are goodies galore that everyone likes.
The grown-ups all share a warm hearted kiss.
Then hugs all around that’s never to miss.
~
The teens await the greatest gift of all.
They’ll soon learn to fly or tumble and fall.
But the new snow’s now deep and oh so soft.
It’s perfect for landing when not high aloft.
~
When the sun gets low and the chill sets in.
Homeward they head for the feast begin.
They’ll all sing and dance and sip warm sno-nog.
The night then ends with the last burning log.
~
Eyelids grow heavy, eyes soon to close.
Socks pulled snugly over big chilly toes.
Hibernation then starts and dreams it’ll bring,
where thoughts are warm awaiting the spring.

~*~
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Weathering Christmas

‘Twas the day after Christmas and all through our town,
the snow had all melted leaving grass colored brown.
New sleds with bows all waited out back.
New hats and gloves all piled in a stack.
~
The weather was warm but the sky a dark gray.
Bikes too must wait for a sunnier day.
Then rain fell heavy just after lunch.
The wind started blowing, mom had a hunch.
~
She gathered the candles and charged her phone.
She called up her parents who were home all alone.
We then jumped in the car, our mission was clear.
We’d drive to their house to bring Christmas cheer.
~
The wind grew stronger, ripping branches from trees.
We saw a strange man in a puddle on skis.
We got to their house, the decorations still lit.
We all rushed in but there’s no time to sit.
~
Gram packed a few things and was ready to go.
Gramps starred out the window wishing for snow.
We squeezed in the car for our long journey home.
Then gramps yelled “Stop! I’ve forgotten my comb.”
~
Gram said “Keep going, you can use mine.”
Gramps, with a smile, said “That’ll be fine.”
Then sis started crying, a bathroom was needed.
“Hurry up mom” she anxiously pleaded.
~
Mom said to wait; there’d soon be a chance.
“If not” she joked “you can soon try new pants.”
Sis got the message and quietly she pouted.
“I have to go too,” Gramps then loudly shouted.
~
Mom kept on going, our street was now near.
But the driving was slow, the weather severe.
Our house then appeared but the driveway was gone.
So mom stomped on the gas and drove up the lawn.
~
We jumped from the car and ran to the door.
Dad was there waiting, looking unsure.
We took off our coats and hung them to dry.
Then lightning went boom and lit up the sky.
~
The lights went out but our fireplace was warm.
We all huddled closely to ride out the storm.
We woke the next morning all stacked around our tree.
Our presence was felt and the day was rain free.

~*~
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Cookies

Cookies, cookies the perfect treat.
Eat them in shoes, socks or bare feet.
I’ve eaten them in my underwear.
You can eat them nude, if you dare.

Sometime just one, sometimes more,
Fresh from the oven or the store.
I prefer fresh, chocolate goo.
But from a box or bag will do.

There’s no time of the day or night,
When eating cookies isn’t right.
When times are good a cookie’s great.
When times are bad I might need eight.

In the kitchen with mom to bake,
The perfect gift cookies will make.
Cookies soon done and into the car,
Then to grandma’s house, it isn’t far.

That smell of cookies is taunting me,
Under the foil where I can’t see.
But I must wait, we’re almost there.
With bunches of cookies for us to share.

We pull in the drive, rush to the bell.
Running so fast I almost fell.
But I held tight to that plate in hand.
I don’t like my cookies mixed with sand.

My big pile of goodness for us to eat,
Stacked high on a plate, nice and neat.
Mom opens the door, I run right in.
Hugs for all, let the party begin!

The girls dance about in pretty new dresses.
The boys run and shout and make big messes.
When we’re done yelling, screaming and raving,
It’s time to quench our cookie craving.

Then back to the car and homeward bound.
Soon dozing off to a breezy sound.
While thinking of cookies I start to dream,
About a world of cookies and cream.

Cookies, cookies the anytime treat.
Eat them at home or the backseat.
You can eat them everywhere,
On the ground or high in the air.

Cookie rockets go to the stars.
Cookies for wheels on our cars.
I dream of a world of cookie dough.
Freshly baked and ready to go.

Cookies for beds for us to sleep,
We’ll count cookies instead of sheep.
Cookies we’ll roll all over town.
We’ll get some milk to wash them down.

A non-round cookie won’t be right.
Remember the poor gingerbread’s plight.
Cookies not round we’ll call them fakes.
They can all be just biscuits or cakes.

If all cookies where round by law.
We wouldn’t have circles or arcs to draw.
The sun would be a cookie shape.
And big cookie craters on a cookiescape.

A bump in the road made my dream roll away.
I’ll dream another, another day.
Where almost home and I’m glad.
A quiet snack is never bad.

It’s getting late, my day’s almost done,
But one last thing that’s always fun.
In-between the wash, rub and scrub.
I nibble a cookie in my tub.

But I never ever eat cookies in my bed.
You’ll sleep real crumby or so it’s said.
And now it’s time to turn off the light.
Sweet dreams to all and have a goodnight.

The End

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Birthday Triku

Birthday Cake-

Candles blaze, wax pools.

Sugar glazed time on a dish.

Slices of life shared.

 

Familiar Paths-

Life’s familiar path:

Birth, growth, love, toil and refresh,

relax and recall.

 

Birthday Wish-

They said “Make a wish”

I wish it not my birthday.

WAIT! – Nope! – didn’t work.

 

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