Wrapping Presents

When it comes to wrapping presents,

I am really not that good.

The edges aren’t neat and don’t

Lie flat the way they should.

 

The paper that I use, though,

Is quite festive, to distract

From all the perfect extras

That my presentation lacked.

 

And if I have a lot to wrap,

My efforts just get worse,

Though fortunately, the receivers

Cannot hear me curse.

 

It really makes no difference, since

To get at what’s inside,

The wrapping gets ripped off

No matter how it’s sealed or tied.

 

And once that paper’s in a heap

Or crumpled on the floor,

Nobody can remember how

That present looked before.

Baby Platy

In the tank are eighteen fish,

Or maybe there are twenty.

It’s hard to count them, but to me,

It seems that there are plenty.

The tank is not too spacious

But with pebbles and live plants,

The black and orange platys 

Do their slo-mo floaty dance.

Yet I was shown a baby

Hiding underneath the leaves

And there might be another one,

Or so my son believes.

It’s cool to see how creatures

Have their instincts kicking in,

Doing what they can to stay away

From hungry next-of-kin.

A Morning at the Met

Today I saw Greek vases

And a room by Frank Lloyd Wright,

Lots of paintings by impressionists,

Which always bring delight…

 

Fancy furnishings and jewelry,

Some sculptures and stained glass,

Ancient pottery and artifacts

Of silver, gold and brass…

 

Even samples of old baseball cards,

A true collector’s dream,

Plus the handiwork of Native tribes,

All worthy of esteem.

 

As I wandered through the galleries

With so much on display,

I felt grateful for the chance to fold

This art into my day.

Lifting My Mood

In a bit of a funk

I sat down and thunk

Of a means to elicit a smile,

‘Til the old thinking cap

Sent a flash that said, “Tap!”

Which I haven’t performed in a while.

 

So I dug out my shoes

And wood board that I use,

Found a video there on the screen,

Then I followed the steps

Which the teacher first preps

‘Til at last I could do the routine.

 

With the music at last,

Just a wee bit too fast,

I was able to tap out the dance

And it lifted my mood

Though my efforts, if viewed,

Would cause looks I’d describe as askance.

Swatches

In my never-ending sofa search,

Which fills my mind with stress,

I order color swatches, which

Don’t guarantee success.

 

In fabric, if the color’s off,

That ruins the appeal

And leather samples might have grains

The site did not reveal.

 

My husband will not get involved –

He doesn’t really care –

For even if a new couch comes,

He’d much prefer his chair.

 

Yet still, I send in my requests,

Ten swatches on the way,

And if they don’t work out, I guess

My current couch will stay.

Tree Lighting

I joined the crowd last night to watch

The local Christmas tree

As it officially got lit,

A lovely sight to see.

 

Although it’s not my holiday,

The festiveness appealed

And as the neighbors gathered ‘round,

That spirit was revealed.

 

A choir was accompanied

By instruments of brass

And caroled with enthusiasm

No one could surpass.

 

The park was filled with families,

Hot chocolate in the air,

And in the moonlight, everyone

Was happy to be there.

Today is the Date

Today is the date that

John Lennon was shot.

Each year at this time

It affects me a lot.

Not for John Lennon,

Though I was a fan,

But for somebody else,

Whose death wasn’t the plan.

My dad had a bypass,

But still was alive,

When I heard on the news 

Lennon didn’t survive.

Yet sadly, my father,

Two days later died,

So it was for him

All the tears that I cried.

Still, every December

The eighth, when I think

Of my dad, I remember

The John Lennon link.

Two fine men passed away 

Well before it was time

And though one was a murder,

Both felt like a crime.