I never actually had a wagon,
I lived on the side of a hill.
I coasted down on my bicycle
If I wanted a rush or a thrill.
Or on the sled in the wintertime.
No, my memory’s not flagging.
Three thoughts I can offer
Concerning the little red wagon.
In the scrapbook, there’s a photo
Of my grandmother and Buster, her Husky.
She harnessed him to the wagon,
He hauled milk up a road very dusty.
Or a vacation in Cherry Grove.
No streets on the Island, Fire.
Walk from the ferry on the boardwalks,
Pulling your goods in a Radio Flyer.
Navy Pier, in the city of Chicago,
Has a spectacular park for the children.
With a twelve foot tall Radio Flyer,
And a pulsating fountain to play in.
© Paul (AHikingDude@aol.com)
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