It was in Hawaii
In the Kona Hotel, that
I saw my first, Feral cat.
Long legged, grey with striped fur,
Strutting about; Putting on an air
As it ambled as if it didn't care.
As I sipped on my Mai Tai,
In the evening Sun.
I recall a friend saying,
"Bet you can't drink more than one."
I ordered another, got up from my chair,
Went to the Loo with nary a care.
When I returned, walking wobbly about,
I said to our host, "that Devil Rum
In this Mai Tai, you serve here,
Is clouding my head", I had a fear
That I must start walking away from the scene,
As I anticipate an hangover
That was going to be mean.
I made it to bed early that night
And remember that I didn't sleep tight.
The lesson learned and I do not try
To ever again, drink a Kona Mai Tai.
At least not more than one.
It was in Hawaii
There he was, so wan and pale.
Born with long ears but no tail.
A rail thin, spotted dog was he,
Full of love, simply wanting to be
Your companion, that you'd look
At endlessly, while doing what it took
To offer him shelter and protection,
He would bring love and affection.
Some people laughed at him, being unaware
That he was plain but didn't care.
The love of humans he did choose,
A love that he would never lose.
I recall when I learned to ski.
Went and bought equipment for me.
Boots, bindings, skis and pole
And sweaters, ski pants, you could see.
I looked the part, of a skier, of course,
But needed lessons to assure me
That I didn't break a leg or hit a tree.
Down the hill I went for a spin
Not realizing the trouble I was in.
Snowplow, she said over and over to me.
A basic move to do on that day,
To slow my descent down the hill.
I tried my best in my own way.
The following weeks, I learned to adore
The snow and the slope, like never before.
Making cutting turns, became a breeze,
When I did the right thing with my knees.
My Son skied with me; remember I can't;
Until I hit a bump and did a head plant.
My days of skiing are now years past,
But the memories hang on and will last,
To the end of my days, please let it be,
While I remember the first day I did ski.
Perhaps it's the boy, in this old man,
That plays in dirt when ever he can.
By playing, I mean, out in the yard,
Where a love of gardening, is not hard,
But a desire to see plants to keep growing.
No matter the fact that it soon will be snowing,
I found that I do not like a Fall chore
Of raking leaves, waiting, then raking some more.
Sometimes my head is so full of noise,
I say a short prayer trying to keep my poise.
Thoughts that are so varied; Hard to handle,
like I am trying to burn both ends of the candle.
Lord please, your help; I need some more,
For now it is almost a quarter to four.
Don't be nervous and don't you worry,
The words keep coming so fast I must scurry.
Finish the line on this last written page,
Before you expire from extreme old age.
Would you love me, if you could,
Although my heart and head
Are made of wood?
My arm a kindle of movement about,
If they hit your head you will shout.
A parental voice will then say,
"Put that doll in a box, do not play
With it anymore or any less."
Is it a reason? It can't be a guess.
Toys are wonderful to see
As they can bring joy to thee.
Over the hill,
down your way,
the little mice
have started to play.
Running on tiny feet,
for something to eat.
Be careful, look up above
or an Owl
will grab your love.
Coyotes also are
not your friend.
Get too close,
that is the end!
Be safe when you play,
so you can return
for another play day.
The kitten played and he tugged
With the yarn ball on the rug.
He batted it with a tiny paw,
Snipping and biting with his small jaw.
A string was exciting, he started to prance,
In doing so it was much like a dance.
Tiring, after he played, he'd go to my lap
To fall asleep, short like a nap.
The joy that this kitten, did bring
To my life, was a wonderful thing.
Thanks be to God for this happiness,
In this World that is in such a mess.
Be good to each other, is now my plea,
So you enjoy your life, like kitty and me.