What is that in my own private pool?
The intruder is certainly cool.
If I had just one wish
it would be a goldfish—
or a waterproof, crib-wrecking tool.
Remembering
My late mom found adventure in everything new
and was seldom without some fresh challenge or two.
A strange recipe thrilled her; she dared to branch out.
Fancy knitting? Her fingers soon knew all about
how to craft a crib blanket or make a fine sweater,
yet she paused at her desk to write someone a letter.
Or she’d hop in my plane to go fish in the sea,
then return to bake biscuits to have with our tea.
When her cupboards looked dingy or just a bit old
she grabbed paint and a brush to turn boring to bold.
When she took a balloon ride one bright sunny day
I distinctly remember what she had to say:
“It was certainly different to float up and go,
but to tell you the truth, that darned thing was too slow.”
Though I’ve certainly waded quite deep,
the new shoreline I’ve found is not steep.
So I’ll have a cold drink
and try hard not to think--
then catch up on some much needed sleep!
Gosh, I read till one eye left its socket,
put the eight ball in the wrong pocket.
So I re-racked again
till it finally sank in
and at last I can say that I’ve got it!
When my focus had gone out of whack
your assistance directed me back.
When I study with you
this stuff sticks like good glue
“Can I give you a hand?” said one gal to her friend.
“If we study together our efforts will blend.”
So that’s just what they did;
from the bogies they hid,
The result was a mutual A-Okay end.
I give up ‘cause it’s too hard for me
and surrendering now seems to be
the least painful recourse
for a broken old horse.
I’ll be sobbing beneath an oak tree.
Please deliver this stuff piece by piece
and my knowledge will surely increase.
If you give me too much
I’ll need too big a crutch
and must call up the pacing police.