There lives
A man
Inside
My wall.
He does
Not have
Much room
At all.

He has
No bath,
He has
No sink.
He does
Not have
The space
To think.

He has
No couch,
He has
No chairs
Or place
To put
The clothes
He wears.

But gripes
From him
You will
Not hear,
His rent’s
Two cents,
Paid once
A year!

This poem was selected for my book!

This Saturday’s made for whatever you like,
You can ride down a slide, or roll by on your bike,
You can laugh with Leona, or mumble with Mike,
This Saturday’s made for whatever you like.

This Saturday’s made for whatever you want,
You can act like a ghost in the house that you haunt,
Or maybe be mayor of Millwood, Vermont
This Saturday’s made for whatever you want.

This Saturday’s made for whatever you wish,
You can play with a penguin, or talk to a fish,
You can act like Aunt Aggie or the great Gantt McLish,
For this Saturday’s made for whatever you wish.

Sometimes it seems unthinkable that I could lead a team
Or race a car around a track or guide a boat upstream.

Sometimes it seems I have no chance of ever fighting fires
Or saving trees or keeping bees or chasing my desires.

Sometimes it seems improbable that I could ever be
A person who is worth somebody looking up to me.

Sometimes it feels impossible that I could ever do
Anything that’s great at all, until I talk to you.

This poem was selected for my book!

A little chick once said to me
“Why, you’re as big as big can be!”;

But then I heard a rude giraffe
Say, “You’re so small, it makes me laugh.”

I learned it’s not the size of you,
It’s the other creature’s point of view.

And it doesn’t matter what they say,
Who cares what a giraffe thinks anyway?

“Oh, what a bore!,
Oh, what a chore!”,
Whined Daisy Dalore
“For I only have four!”

“As you can see…”
Replied Maggie McKey,
“I only have three,
Oh, whoa is me…”

“Listen to you!,
You shouldn’t be blue!,
I have only two!”
Complained Lester Loo.

“Well I’m having fun!”
Chirped Catherine Ruhn
“And I only have one –
But I could’ve had none!”

Well, Happy Happy Birthday
But whatever you do
Please don’t make the same mistake
As poor Simon McGrew

He wished his biggest birthday wish
Took the biggest breath that he could take
And before he’d known it, he’d gone and blown it…
The icing off the cake!

Poor Grandpa on the other end
Was covered with the stuff
But the bigger concerns were his friends taking turns
Complaining that their cake was tough

When the birthday bash was over
And his friends had all gone home
Simon found an iced finger, and doubts started to linger
About where Grandpa had gone…

When they realized what had happened
The family was quite amiss
Simon started to cry, his mother asked why
“Because I didn’t get my wish!”

Well, Happy Happy Birthday
But whatever you do
Don’t make the same old cake-mistake
As poor Simon McGrew.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,
Thank you all for coming.
I thought it was swell,
I hope you did as well,
And the stories – they sure were something.

Mr. Barnett told the funniest jokes.
I laughed ’til I split my side.
And Suzanne McHale and her heart-breaking tale,
Caused the women to wail,
And I nearly cried.

The dinner was perfect – as the Cramton’s had promised,
The turkey and gravy – quite fine,
And I must relate that the chocolates we ate –
I heard they were great –
I found them divine.

It was fun from the start,
From the first game of darts,
To the pool that we played,
And the muffins we made,
The twelve games of cards,
The walks through my yard,
The discussions of law,
The movie we saw,
The pictures we drew,
And our trip to the zoo,
I’ve had a fine time, and I hope you have too.

I’m quite pleased I invited you all for dinner
You’re wonderful friends, and I’ve meant all I’ve said,
I truly abhor,
to show you the door,
But you’ve been here for days, and I must go to bed!!!

“Are you feeling any better yet?”,
Said Phillip to poor Kelly,
Who was hot and cold and grey and green,
And had an upset belly.

She had a cough, she had a wheeze
Her hair was falling off her head,
She had tiny bumps on both her knees,
That were turning white to red.

When she talked, she sounded hoarse,
When she walked, she’d fall,
And when she tried to blow her nose,
It came out her ears if it came out at all.

In bed, she couldn’t fall asleep,
Outside, she couldn’t stay awake,
She couldn’t keep her thoughts together,
She couldn’t make her fever break.

Her ears were hot, her tongue was tied,
Her eyes were yellow, orange, and pink,
She looked at Phillip, and replied
“I don’t know, what do you think?”