THE THING

Each stitch grew -- and
added to -- the thing.
She stitched and stitched.
What it was? I never knew.
I never asked.
Weeks passed -- as they do.
I never asked.

One day she showed the finished thing
with pride.
She smiled and said
"It's done at last!!"
I shared her joy -- for I was happy too!
-- that it was done at last!
What it was? I never asked.

I took it off the wall one day
while she was out.
I turned it every which-a-way.
What it is?  I'll never know.
It doesn't matter, does it?
It pleased her so!
I'm glad now that
I never asked.


A DOLLAR EIGHTY-FIVE AND ALL'S WELL

Hello! -- Hello!
Is that you, Dad?
Hello! -- yes -- Oh Winston!
Yes, Dad, it's me!
Good to hear your voice, son!
Good to hear your voice, Dad!
How have you been, Dad?
Fine son, how have you been?
I've been well, Dad -- and Mother --
how is she?
She's well, son -- she's right here --
would you care to speak to her?
I'd like that, Dad!
Put her on, will you?
Hello, Mother!
It's good to hear your voice, son!
Yours too, Mother!
Have  you been well, Winston?
Yes, Mother -- and you?
Fine -- just fine, Dear.
Good -- glad you're both well.
I'll call again soon, Mother.
Please do, son -- and son --
Yes, Mother?
Keep well!


THE QUESTION

A month went by
then another
didn't hear from Chet
(Chet was my brother).
You never knew
what Chet would do.
He'd work for awhile
then go on the bum.
Be gone for months.
A rap on the door
maybe half past one
He'd be standing there -- shyly.
I'd get him a room.
He'd start in again.
He never said much
except now and then.
He'd ask a question.
"Who am I?"
"What should I do?"
I'd give him an answer
but I never knew.
"Who am *I*?"
"What should *I* do?"


A BOOKWORM REQUIEM

My life was short
my death was quick.
I blame no one
I had never been sick.

In a tomb impressive
for one so young,
To be honored forever
and not unsung.

The words on my cover 
meant nothing to me.
My learning was slight
I had only been three.

One day I was moved
uncovered and washed
the place where I lay --
where my body was squashed.

With a sign placed above
for all the world to see
"Roget's Thesaurus" -- $1.93.
Could that really be me?

A notice of my death
What else could it be?
for that's where it happened
between pages 192 and 193.


THE TRAVAILS OF COURTSHIP

I floated down --
wings outstretched prettily --
my tail, finger-feathered for effect.
(She was watching me, I knew).

With great elan and sublime finesse
I turned gracefully into the breeze
for my landing.

As I approached the perch
I gave a sideway glance -- to see
the impression I was making.
('Twas a mistake).

I missed my mark and toppled
headlong -- to the earth below.
Feathers ruffled, embarassed-ly
I looked up at her.

With a snicker, and with sweet
disdain -- she gave a chirp --
and flew away.