As you read my little poem,
dear reader, please remember,
it was a different time back then,
when things were so much simpler.
‘Twas 70’s eve of Easter Day,
when eggs and gifts await,
I was a quirky child of five,
excitement ever great!
I waited till my folks slept sound,
and all about was still,
I crept out from my toasty bed,
Downstairs I sneaked, to take a peek,
at all my eggy plunder,
a gift I found, with eyes so wide,
I punched the air with wonder!
The gift was small and bright snow white,
soft as the purest dove,
A pack of tissues of my own!
‘twas what I’d ever dreamed of.
You see dear reader, ‘twas like this,
my ma a strict disciplinarian,
only hankies were allowed,
to her – tissues, unsanitarian.
I went to bed on such a high,
‘twas hard to fall asleep,
I never did anticipate,
how much I’d sob and weep.
I dreamed a dream of Grannies house,
where tissues flowed asunder,
pastel delights plucked from the box,
an endless cause of wonder.
Eater day soon came – at last,
I rushed to my delight,
Alas no tissues waited there,
just SOCKS, white and knee height.
I wept and cried, made such a fuss,
my ma was most perplexed,
she clipped my ear, and scolded me,
I was sent to bed quite vexed.
© Bless You 27.01.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
Easter Chicks on a Boat (Photo credit: nickstone333)