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Posts Tagged ‘sandwich’

My tidy desk

A MESS, BY ANY OTHER NAME

 

This is the room where-in I write

I know you think it’s quite a sight

You look askance at all the piles

But those are what I call my files

 

I sure get chided for this mess

What’s underneath, I cannot guess

But I can’t write without them near

And it’s up to me to make it clear

                                               

Though every magazine and book

May only have a cursory look

I know what all  those pages hold

Needing them all, though some are old

 

They’re carelessly piled upon the floor

There’s barely room for any more

Among the mess, hide pens and clips

And copious notes on little slips

 

And maybe there’s a bill or two

That fell there, as the piles grew

And “greetings” that I failed to send . . .

Oh, the piles just never end

 

I tried to tidy them one time

So, laid aside my current rhyme

And spent the whole darn dreary day

Clipping and filing and putting away

 

Then lost my sandwich right at noon

I think it’s smelling up this room

But if I search the piles you see

I’ll make a mess, and that can’t be

 

11/30/06       Phyllis DeWitt -VanVleck

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    DIPPING INTO THE PAST

 

 

The camaraderie was very meaningful

between my younger brother and myself..

We were raised during the Great Depression

and we made our own fun, as other children

did, sharing what little we had. Boredom

was never in our vocabulary.

 

One Christmas there was a pair of roller

skates, for he and I to share, and sometimes

we each wore a skate as we raced downhill

with the joyous freedom of childhood.

 

There were newspaper kites to send flying,

made from Sunday’s colorful comics,

balsa wood, and a tail of knotted

lisle stockings. With a little adjustment

they soared like eagles on a thermal flow.

 

Simple objects were the source of summer

fun, such as stilts and our tin-can walking

cleats. The stilts made us feel very daring

and brave, but we loved the sound of those noisy

cleats as they clickity-clacked on the sidewalk.

We thought the noise was simply delicious.

 

Our tree house was an exciting adventure.

Making it was more fun than using it,

but we had great picnics up there all summer,

with the welcome mat out for everyone.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tasted

so much better up there, than anywhere.

The tree provided our desert in season,

as we’d reach out the window for fresh mulberries.

 

Winter wasn’t left out in our home-made

fun. A toboggan made of sheet tin and saplings

gave us many hours of snowy enjoyment.

Sliding downhill with the wind in our faces,

until the cold made us go inside for a warm-up.

 

Sadly, my brother left this world when barely

out of his teens, leaving a huge empty

spot in my life. But he lives on in memory,

racing down the sidewalk with those shared roller

skates. Running down hill with kites flying

behind us. Making noise with tin-can cleats clinging

to our shoes as we clanked down the sidewalk.

Treasured memories of a beloved brother.

 

 

9/6/95         Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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