helping good parents become great parents
before they becomegrandparents
Browsing through an old portable hard drive, I have discovered some old writing... including some of my terrible, hilarious, weird poetry. This one goes, I think, with the post about how the curmudgeons always claim these kids are the 'worst ever'... check that one out here.
Apologies are probably in order, but here goes:
In the stillness of morning air
3 small branches dancing there
The apple tree is old and staid
But in its small twigs, breezes played.
'Settle down, you young'uns, there!'
'You're going to get in someone's hair!'
'Cut it out, you're such a clown'
'Stop it or someone will cut you down'
The voices called out in the dawn
But twigs and branches danced full on
As if they could not hear the strife
Dancing, singing, full of life-sustaining
As if to say
'Life is dancing, swaying'
'No memory remains of playing?'
Hardened wood of olden days
Value now, not youthful ways
Even as the new growth plays
Right they are and right they'll stay
Creating rebels of innocent ways.
by Linda Clement, copyright
And then complaining about their creation.
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