Mothers at the store
Rattle out the door
And never take me home with them--
They're funny that way.
Oh, but I'm
Cuter than cake mix,
Sweeter than summer squash,
Please,
Pretend I'm a new product
And give me a try;
Don't leave me
High and dry.
When I was small,
They called me Little Bones;
Quiet, and cold
And always alone.
Mothers at the store
Rattle out the door
And never take me home with them--
They know I'd beg to stay.
________________________________
I'd take you home! And place you in the sunniest morning window where you'd make my heart smile every time I saw you.
ReplyDelete"Cuter than cake mix!" What an awesome turn of phrase!
ReplyDeleteJannie, I had to come back and change my response to your comment.
ReplyDeleteBecause....
It's the nicest comment I ever got since i started Word garden. :-)
LOL Mama Zen, I kinda liked that, too. Thanks for reading and for your kind words. :-)
ReplyDeleteI love the Laura Nyro and the Blood Sweat and Tears.
ReplyDeleteI miss the contact with you, however. Please don't tell me the Blue Meanies have capyured you once more requiring the services of Hagbard Celine and his darned yellow submarine to release you again.
O, nice poem too; butcha better just let me know you're doing well, Cookie.
Hello, sweet sister mine. I am free and sailing the sea in my electric pink tugboat, no Blue Meanies in sight.
ReplyDeleteHowever it IS my six day work week, which I hate, and which tends to swallow me up and not release me until sunday. Keep your eye on the horizon, girl! ;-)
Oh, and great poem!! (Did I mention that?)
ReplyDeleteI thought you never would! LOL. Thank you, Jannie. :-)
ReplyDelete