by Jackie McClellan

Created on: April 22, 2009

Sometimes We Need a Shovel

Oh how grass grows, and it tickles my toes
And I clamor to see, but alas, it is snow.
For what once was forgotten, a child's delight
Can sometimes be awfully mistaken for fright.

And I twitch, scratch an itch, got a fire in my eye,
And it seems a salt shaker is sprinkling the sky.
But confusion's collusion makes memories this way
I forgot what it's like; I mush-melt them away.

Do I like things in bloom...
Stain of sun in my room?

And the heat is too much...
Yet I crave sunbeam's touch.

My selfish behavior might seem quite absurd
But a call through the white often goes well unheard.

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