by Jolene Belmain

Created on: August 05, 2008

I walk with my mom,
hand in hand,
looking for a
garbage can.

I see every can
as if they were gold,
looking to see
what treasures they hold.

My mom tries to walk past
but I let out a shriek,
but mom I might miss him,
this could be his street!

My mom rolls her eyes
but still plays the game,
let's me believe
he's here all the same.

I look all around
for his shade of green,
but still it is yet;
yet to be seen.

He's got to be here
I'll find him one day.
I'll tell him my name,
we'll laugh and we'll play.

With every silver and green can
we stop and I crouch,
looking inside
for oscar the grouch!

Lifting the lid,
excitement about to burst,
peering inside,
but finding the worst.

He's not there either,
we'll try the next one,
with every can
it's more and more fun

Those big shiny cans,
what wonders they hold.
The imagination's a great thing
when you are four years old.

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