Wiggle worms,
Thirty inch squirms.
Tables are towers,
The bench has powers.
Mom’s not looking,
Trouble’s cooking.
Too cute to stop,
So we all watch.
One in blue, the other yellow,
Chase and catch the other fellow.
Mom’s now spied and on the run,
Out to ruin all their fun.
Grins and giggles,
Adorable wiggles.
They’ll grow up and it’ll all be over,
Climb the chair and call, “Red Rover!”
(I don’t usually plan to post more than once a day, but sometimes poetry just jumps out at me. In this case, two absolutely adorable children – if they had been louder or really obnoxious, they wouldn’t have been so adorable. I snapped two cell phone pictures, don’t worry, you can’t see their faces. But they were so inspirational!)
It’s interesting how poetry either comes or it doesn’t. For prose, I have to sit and think for a while, or have a topic or study or research. When a verse hits me, it’s just like spontaneous birth. There’s no stopping rhythm.
love the rhyming, delightful read.
how are you?
submit your poetry to poets rally today, we love your talent.
A very sweet tribute to the playful innocence of childhood. Cute and nostalgic!
love the snap shots.
keep poetry alive, you rock.
You amaze me with your ability to write poetry. I found this one especially memorable (as a mom!)