A Rhyme at a Time

A Rhyme at a Time

For Simeon, who showed me the fodder mountain.

I was thinking of stuff

and it might be tough

to understand why we get low,

but it occurred to me in my mind you see, there's other places our thoughts could go.

For instance:

Witches have

glitches and itches,

low pitches,

and stitches in their long black dresses,

black tresses, and so many stresses.

Could they hide in recesses do you think?

Have you ever climbed a fodder mountain?

And at the top you found a water fountain?

I want to trudge up that huge pile of hay for a cool drink to think

while i slurp and burp

and swallow to fill the hollow

of my tummy.

Do you know why I like hippopotomae?

They are sly and spry and a little shy.

Do you think when they lie their feet point to the sky, high and dry?

Nope. They are wet I bet.

Do they get filled with regret that they don't live somewhere more temperate?

A long time ago I knew a midget

who liked to fidget with his widget.

He had a bird named Pidget

and a dog named Gidget who one day bit his digit.

One day I ran with a young man

who had a tan

and a funny plan

to make up a rhyme

all the time.

It was sublime when I found mine

written on a dime.

It said:

In God we must trust

and not have a fuss

when everything's just a little bit mussed.

Plus:

A little boy brought me joy

when the world had begun to annoy me.

He brought a smile to my day

and in a simple way

made me want to stay and obey.

So you see we are free

to be you and me

in a sillier version I think.

Just give some thought to the stories i've wrought,

and give your brain something else to think.