“We’ll bring it up later,” We said about our underwears Then we left the pile of’em On the bottom of the stairs, And on the step above’em Rolled neatly into pairs We left a dozen socks And three brushes for our hairs. On the 4th step from the bottom My stack of comics went Right below my sister’s piggybank Chock full of Lincoln cents. A tennis racket and mobile device Were on the next step up. Three picture frames followed, two candelabra, Then one antique porcelain tea cup. Mom don’t love when we put stuff there We don’t get what’s the matter Though to climb up the steps The way that they is We sure could use a ladder.
Tag Archives: chores
BIRD BRAINS
It’s great to be a bird in a town
where the lawns are always mowed
Whenever I want an earthborn snack
there’s never a long way to go.
While my country cousins
love their cornfield
I say, all those tall stalks
keep the good stuff concealed.
Here the grass stays short
so the worms can’t hide,
There’s so much to choose
I can hardly decide.
So complain if you want
of the noise from the mower,
And its belches of smoke
with their grassy odor,
I’ll stand by relaxing
while all down the street
My lawn obsessed friends
find me something to eat.
Re-Seeding the Weeding
Standing in the window
We saw out in the yard
Dad crouching and appearing
To be thinking very hard.
Before him lay the lawn
Which he ran both his palms through
Then he stood and snapped his fingers
Like he knew just what to do.
“Kids, congratulations!”
he said walking in the door,
“to the list of gifts we’re blessed with,
go ahead and add one more:
That rug of yellow flowers
We always viewed with alarm,
Is now the answer to the question,
‘Where’s your dandelion farm?’
“How close I came to mowing it
How lucky that I stopped!
How fortunes may have turned
If I’d ploughed our major crop:
“No dandelion tinctures,
Lost dandelion greens,
Zero dandelion wine
Or dandelion diaper creams!
“It proves how working hard
instead of smart can be a pox.
Why battle dandelion growth
When we’ve got it outfoxed?
“Now please excuse me kids,
this here farmer has had SOME day,
the land can wear you down, you’ll learn,
if on our farm you stay!”
Chuckling loudly as he exited
Dad didn’t hear us sighing,
Or see us window-squinting,
Picturing farming dandelions.
WHO HAS THE FLOOR?
“Kids, grab your picks and shovels
and come along with me,
We’re headed on a voyage
of thrilling discovery!
It’s been so long since we’ve seen it,”
Dad with excitement said,
“And this will be like a safari …
Quick!
Let’s tape flashlights to our heads!
We’ll set out like explorers
Who knows what is in store?
On this adventure quest
For the Lost Family Room Floor!
We’ll search beneath the pillows,
The building blocks and blankets,
We’ll push past all the heaps of dolls
And mountain range of trinkets!
And with hard work and good luck
If we persevere
If through drums and balls and train sets
We’re able to steer,
Maybe we can find it,
That myth from days of yore,
That deeply buried, long lost treasure
The Fabled Family Room Floor!”
WHAT IF
I asked,
“What if I blew my teeth?
What if I brushed my nose?
What if I ironed the leaves?
What if I raked my clothes?
What if I clipped my ears?
Pierced my nails?
Flossed my shoes?
Shined my hair?
Climbed my bike?
Rode the stairs?
Took a bed?
Went to bath?
Added letters?
Read my math?
Swam a jog?
Ran a swim—”
“Well,” Mom cut in,
“Eventually folks might ask
‘Sooo…..What’s up with him?’”
Tweed Typewriter 