One, two, three, one, two, three--"three quarter time,"
This poem took off in its own rhythmic style
Waltzing through verses which all seem to rhyme,
And one, two, threed right into my inner child.
Silly is something that little kids like;
Stories and rhymes about tigers that sing,
Orange and blue zebras, all piled on a bike,
And plastic flamingos, in yards, taking wing.
Writing for children is my chance to try
To challenge the mind of each shy little kid;
Helping them let their imaginings fly
And joyfully take off and soar like mine did.
So, I think up rhymes, though they may not be great,
I get an idea and the words just appear;
I've written lyrics, too, seven or eight,
For songs, but the music won't come to my ear.
Sometimes an idea pops into my head,
Words that to me, make a great country song!
Most times it's something that somebody said;
I'm up, writing words (but no tune) all night long.
Maybe it's best that I stick with the kids
Simple and silly to bring forth a smile;
Could be a chuckle would help me get rid
Of "melody blockage," I've had a long while.
When I was a volunteer guide at the zoo
I learned all about the inhabitants there;
They had a gorilla that loved to throw poo!
And camels, when pestered, would spit! So beware.
So, I write of animals, insects and things--
Some fact, some fiction; some tame, and some, wild,
And fantasy creatures on gossamer wings
Who happily spring forth from my inner child.
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