A Truck Got Stuck

A truck got stuck; it seemed it struck
A tunnel’s too-short ceiling.
To passengers in nearby cars
Such news was not appealing.

I would’ve thought that trucker ought
To’ve known that tunnel’s measure.
For if he did, he’d know his stunt
Would cause some real displeasure.

Though they might cluck, those out of luck
Had no choice ‘cept for waiting.
Those minutes ticking by, I trust,
Were surely aggravating.

It isn’t nice to pay the price
For someone’s stupid blunder.
How bad the one who caused it feels
Is something that I wonder.

Sighting a Drone

As I walked along the river
In the morning, all alone,
I was taken quite aback
When I glanced up and saw a drone.

Since I’d never really seen one,
I was shocked as it sailed by
And I wondered what its presence
Possibly could signify.

Some protection for the mayor
Or surveillance of the park?
Much more likely, though, some amateurs
Who’d flown it on a lark.

It flew close to half a mile
Then it circled, heading back.
In my younger days, I might have feared
A UFO attack.

But I’ve heard of these contraptions
That can hover way up high
So I realized what it was
As it went zipping through the sky.

Yes, the future is upon us.
Of that, there can be no doubt;
But at least this flying object
Had no Martians stepping out!

The Fruit Plate

Once a month we gather
For some mah jongg and some lunch.
We rotate homes; the hostess
Makes a meal and snacks to munch.

But there is one tradition
That’s not open for dispute -  
Whoever hosted last must next
Provide the plate of fruit.

The plastic platter’s blue and it’s
Divided into parts
To separate the sweeter types,
Like melons, from the tarts.

The bearer chooses fruits she likes,
Arranged for their appeal.
We nosh on them before the game
And also with the meal.

Tomorrow it’s my turn to bring
The dish that’s piled on high
With varied fresh-bought produce,
So I’ll happily comply.

Magenta

Magenta was my favorite crayon
Out of all the hues.
When coloring, it always was
The first one I would choose.

I hadn’t thought of that in years
But just last week I made
A purchase of a sweater in
That same magenta shade.

A crayon color brought to life
Is such a sweet surprise,
A tribute to the crayon box
In my old school supplies.

Terror in France

A terrorist attack in France –
We know just how they feel.
To hear about it somehow seems
Both awful and surreal.

It took a long, long time to put
Our own attacks behind us
And now the news from Paris
Is a harsh way to remind us.

The city is on high alert;
Let’s hope it’s calm tomorrow.
For now, we must extend our hearts
To Frenchmen in their sorrow.

Forgetting

They say you won’t remember me
If I should die today.
You aren’t old enough quite yet
For memories to stay.

All the reading, rocking, holding,
All the tickles and the laughter
Are considered just a prelude
To the time that will come after.

If I disappeared tomorrow
I’d be gone without a trace
And, according to the experts,
I’d be easy to replace.

So I’ll try to keep on living
For I don’t want to depart
‘Til I’m certain there’s a piece of me
That’s Velcroed in your heart.

And the only one with access
To that piece of me inside
Is the one who would forget me
If I prematurely died.

Good Movie ~ Bad Play

We saw a good movie and saw a bad play,
Both of them seen on the very same day.

The movie was early, a 10 o’clock show;
When over, to Broadway by train we did go.

At 2 we attended a matinee;
It mostly was awful, the dancing okay.

The tickets were cheap so we blew off the cost;
Two hours of time we unluckily lost.

A dinner at home, though, had lots of appeal;
Not taking a chance on a maybe-bad meal.