Holding Henry's Hands

Holding Henry’s hands as he
Perambulates the room
Imbues him with the power
Which he cannot quite assume.

He knows the basics – right foot, left,
But balance is elusive;
Desire, though, outpaces skill
So Nanas are conducive.

But very soon he’ll have the knack;
He won’t need my assistance
And then there’ll come a day
When holding hands will meet resistance.

And so for now we walk and walk,
His hands and mine connected,
Wherever he may lead until
This walking thing’s perfected.

What You Can Do

You only do what you can do
Or else you will regret it.
When people take on more than that,
I simply do not get it.

For we can handle just so much
Before we court disaster
And then the problems build and build
So crashing's that much faster.

We learn our limits by and by
For certainly we need 'em,
So older folk respect the warnings
And attempt to heed 'em.

It's great to push ourselves outside
The boundaries we've erected
But as we age, the consequences
May be unexpected.

Yellowjackets

I piled my plate with ribs,
Potato salad and pulled pork,
Then grabbed a beer, a napkin
And my plastic knife and fork.

The picnic table beckoned
So we sat to have our meal,
Not knowing that our dinner
Would turn into an ordeal.

For out of nowhere there appeared
A yellowjacket pair, 
Alighting on my plate, my food,
My beer, my hand, my hair.

Perhaps it was the honey
In the saucy-coated ribs
That attracted these invaders
Out to claim their rightful dibs.

I swatted and deflected them
But I could clearly see
That a peaceful, laid-back barbecue
This wasn't meant to bee!

At the Arcade

Place your coins in the machine
And watch the puppets dance
Or carousel go 'round and 'round,
The ponies all a'prance.

The fortune teller makes her guess;
The baseball players swat.
The circus comes to life
For just a quarter in the slot.

The old arcade is still alive
On San Francisco's pier,
So naturally, we did indulge
As long as we were here.

But I got taken by one game -
The name - "End of the Trail" -
A desert with a skeleton
And wagon, built to scale.

I wondered what my money
In that scene could make occur.
My quarter caused the shreds
Of wagon cloth to slightly stir.

Okay, it was a sucker's bet,
But how it made me grin!
Well worth the change I paid
To one who thought he reeled me in.

The Flight

The flight, supposed to leave at 6,
Departed much, much later
And to our few demands, the airline
Didn't really cater.

The reasons why were iffy - 
There was traffic, fuel was low,
But explanations didn't help - 
We wanted just to go.

They told us to deplane and take
Our bags and all our stuff.
A brand-new pilot's coming soon -
But not quite soon enough.

At last, half-past eleven,
We took off and hit the skies.
The passengers, exhausted,
Shut their lights and closed their eyes.

We got to our hotel at 3 a.m.,
Too pooped to pop.
The joys of airline travel - 
Well, they never seem to stop.

But still, we had a lovely day
Despite our tired state.
We're flying home on Sunday - 
Gee, I really cannot wait!

Jacket

My denim jacket’s kind of old;
It’s not the coolest style,
Yet it’s been worn for years
And will be here for quite a while.

It’s kinda loose and boxy
But it keeps away the chill.
I really should replace it
But I think I never will.

We sometimes get attached to clothes
And just can’t let them go.
My jacket’s almost retro now;
At least they tell me so…

Carry-On

I hate to check my luggage
When I’m about to fly.
I much prefer to carry-on
And here are reasons why -

My suitcase can’t get very lost
If it’s within my reach
And no one’s hands have riffled through,
An oft-occurring breach.

But mostly it’s a case of time –
I really hate to wait
Until the baggage carousel
Begins to activate.

And so I schlep my bag aboard;
My husband heaves it high
And hopefully, there’ll be a space
For it to occupy.