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,

anticipated thrill.

 

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)