Counting

My mother counted meatballs

As she plunked them in the pot.

When I exercise, I count each rep

So I know what is what.

We’ve been told to count our blessings

And, of course, to count the change.

Counting sheep to an insomniac

Would surely not seem strange.

A dieter counts calories.

(For that, please count me out.)

A KO’d boxer hears the count

And knows he’s lost, no doubt.

A countdown at a launch pad

Lets us know that blast off’s near

And the thought that counts reminds us

What we want might not appear.

If you’re counting on an ending

To this little counting spree

Then don’t worry since you know that you

Can always count on me.