Tres Leches

A meal is not a meal to me
Unless it has dessert.
When looking at a menu,
I kick in to high alert.

I have my favorites but at times
I’ll sample something new
And that is how a special treat
Came up for my review.

When dinner ended (Mexican),
We gave our guest the choice.
“Tres Leches cake” is what he chose;
I didn’t quite rejoice.

For it was unfamiliar
And like flan’s what I envisioned;
Since we were sharing, though, I’d bow
To what I’d not decisioned.

To my surprise, Tres Leches cake
Was heavenly delight!
With berries and meringue on top,
I savored every bite.

Had I objected, ‘twould have been
A terrible mistake
And the proof is in, not pudding,
But within Tres Leches cake!

Ice Cube

I got a plant for Mothers’ Day –
An orchid, snowy white.
I placed it on the windowsill
For steady, gentle light.

Instructions were mysterious –
“Avoid all drafts” – I get it;
But “Water with an ice cube”
Seems the weirdest way to wet it.

For in tropical environments,
Where orchids mostly grow,
Surely rainfall’s warm and misty
And there’s never ice or snow.

Though perhaps a subtle melting,
As the ice begins to trickle,
Is conducive to protecting
Plants so fragile, like a tickle.

So each week I place an ice cube
In the tiny pot to fill it
And I hope that the instructions
Aren’t causing me to kill it!

The Super

City dwellers would agree
To trace a building’s pedigree
You simply have to look around
And find out where the super’s found.

For he’s the one at the controls
While also playing many roles –
He’s handyman and problem-fixer,
Referee and landlord nixer.

Plumber and negotiator,
Checker of the elevator;
Chaser-out of thieves and thugs,
Ridder of both mice and bugs.

If the super’s really good,
Then things are run the way they should.
Most make do with one just fair;
A super super’s pretty rare.

Tomorrow mine will call it quits.
With him, I’ve reaped the benefits
Of loyalty and total trust;
I’m sad to see him hit the dust.

There’ll be a new man at the helm
To rule this little urban realm.
I hope he’ll keep us all afloat
And pray he doesn’t rock the boat.

Thanking Dr. Seuss

Some get hooked on poetry
By reading Robert Frost
Or Dickinson or Poe
Or others whom their paths have crossed.

In college I read Coleridge,
Byron, Shelley,Whitman, Pound,
T.S. Eliot and Wordsworth,
All in Norton’s, nicely bound.

But in truth, what got me started
Was less lofty, though enticing –
More like turning from the cake
So I could focus on the icing.

For my intro into rhyming
(If you don’t count Mother Goose),
Were the silly stories written
By that master, Dr. Seuss.

I was lifted and delighted
By each word upon each page;
Though he also drew the pictures,
It was language that engaged.

Every rhyme and all the rhythm
Seeped by suction to my veins
And they flowed into the depths
Where the important stuff remains.

So to Dr. Seuss I owe a debt.
He changed the way I’m wired
And I wonder if he realized
All the poets he inspired.

Aloe, I Love You (to the tune of the Doors' "Hello I Love You")

Aloe, I love you ‘cause you conquered my itch.
Aloe, I love you, it was making me twitch.
Aloe, from Calamine, you made me switch.
Aloe, my life you know you helped to enrich.

Mosquito bites or hives –
It’s nice to know when the aloe arrives
You’ll get some quick relief
And a little respite from your grief…

Aloe, I love you ‘cause you conquered my itch.
Aloe, I love you, it was making me twitch.
Aloe, from Calamine, you made me switch.
Aloe, my life you know you helped to enrich.

You might have poison ivy
Or a rash from someplace divey.
A bout of chicken pox or measles, too –
You’d get some comfort if you just knew…Ahhhhhh…..

That aloe helps to cool things down,
Turns your lips to smile instead of frown,
Just a little dab seems to do the trick
And its magic starts to work real quick.

Aloe – aloe – aloe – aloe – aloe – aloe – aloe
I love you
Aloe – I need you, baby
Aloe – aloe – aloe – aloe.

Decoration Day

We called it Decoration Day
When I was just a kid
And up ‘til now, I never knew
Exactly why we did.

I always thought that it referred
To stripes that soldiers earned
Or stars and bars for officers,
But that’s not what I learned.

I googled it to double-check
And found out I was wrong.
The “decorations” were for graves
And have been all along.

For each serviceman who fought
And lost his life in sacrifice,
Just a marker on his resting place
Would simply not suffice.

So as tribute and remembrance,
With a flag or a bouquet,
We should beautify a soldier’s grave
On Decoration Day.

No matter what you call it,
When our flag is flown half-mast,
Take a moment for reflection
On our soldiers who have passed.

Sidewalk Chalk

A picture drawn with sidewalk chalk
Will always make me smile
And even in this modern age,
It won't go out of style.

When I was young, our pottsy games
Were proudly done in chalk
And passers-by, when glancing down,
Would not upon them walk.

My children decorated rocks
And our un-trafficked street,
Especially on holidays,
Which made the day complete.

There's an artist in the city,
De la Vega is his name,
Who in secret leaves his chalk impressions,
Earning him some fame.

But no matter who the chalker,
There is one thing that is clear,
When a downpour comes to visit,
All that art will disappear.