In school, we sometimes were assigned
To memorize
some verse
And so, at
home, in front of parents,
We would,
thus, rehearse.
We then
presented what we’d learned
In class or
on a stage,
Without the
benefit of notes
Or glancing
at a page.
Amazingly,
when thinking back
On rhymes
that we had nailed,
We find them
still intact; our teacher’s
Mandate has
prevailed.
Though teaching’s
changed in many ways,
For better
or for worse,
It’s
satisfying somehow
To recite a
once-learned verse.
Nothing can be finer
Than to sit
in a recliner
When you’re
reading.
Though this
may be minor,
Not each
furniture designer
Thinks you’re
needing
Comfort for
your tootsies
When you
stretch your feet.
Horizontal
footsies
Make
relaxing complete.
Ottomans
will let ‘ya
Put your
feet up, too, I betcha,
When you’re
streaming.
Don’t let nothing
sweat ‘ya,
For an
ottoman will get ‘ya
Close to
beaming.
You don’t
need an empire,
Just a
living room space
To get unwound
within your own place.
Nothing’s
really finer
Than a foot
rest or recliner
To start
dreaming.
People have their preferences
For pillows,
so much so
That many
take their own along
When
traveling they go.
Synthetic ones
are all the rage
Or those
with memory foam,
But I will always
sleep with
Down-filled
pillows in my home.
Ads proclaim
it matters if
You sleep
upon your side
Or on your
back to help you,
When you’re
shopping, to decide.
Hotel rooms
often have a choice
Of pillows
on the bed,
So you can
pick from soft or firm
On which to
lay your head.
No matter
which type you prefer,
The costly
or the cheap,
The pillow
that you love won’t
Guarantee a good
night’s sleep.
Living near the mayor,
I am inconvenienced when
A head of state comes through the gate,
Which happens now and then.
The secret service and the cops
Block off surrounding streets
And if you try to get on by,
You’ll suffer some defeats.
But it’s much worse for those who live
Or work near the U.N.,
For they are barred, which makes it hard,
From getting home again.
Between the protests and the police,
They’re sadly out of luck.
Like all the crews who film the news,
They’re flat-out simply stuck.
We city people know the drill,
But still keep seeing red.
We disapprove, but would we move?
We’ll suffer here instead.
There’s usually, in every group,
And often evident,
One person
who is not in charge,
But rather
the cement.
The one who
makes things happen
And who
brings all factions in,
Assuring that
each person’s there
And ready to
begin.
The one the
others turn to
When a
problem might arise.
Who knows
when someone’s out of line
And cuts her
down to size.
It isn’t
necessarily
The one with
all the brains,
But someone
with the people skills
To soothe
disparate strains.
Without this
member, groups would fade
In throes of
discontent,
For gatherings
won’t hold together
If there’s
no cement.
Saw a friend for lunch; we meet
To talk of
health and aging.
A cozy
booth; we schmooze and eat,
Our changes
up for gauging.
The negatives
of age contrast
With pics of
a vacation
So beautiful
that they surpassed
Our senior
state fixation.
Until at
last, we split the bill,
The credit
cards extended.
We signed
our names and knew the drill;
Our lovely
meal had ended.
I folded my
receipt in two
And in the
bag I carry,
I stuffed it,
like I always do,
So very
ordinary.
We said
goodbye and headed out,
Where home
for us both beckoned.
About the
check, I had a doubt;
I’ll look at
home, I reckoned.
An hour
later, no receipt
Appeared,
despite my searching.
I sadly must
admit defeat,
A getting
old besmirching.
Many children, likely most,
Don’t have the slightest clue
Of how their grown-up selves will be
Or what they’d like to do.
The childhood years, in school and camp,
Will open many eyes
And steer some in directions
That might startle or surprise.
Yet there are those who, very young,
Can see a waiting path,
Who know exactly what they want
And figure out the math
To get them ready to embark,
With tools that they might need,
In hopes that they will have support
And that they will succeed.
It’s satisfying when I read
Or hear of someone who
Accomplished what, in childhood,
Was the future that he knew.