The child pulled his truck down to the bus-stop
And lifted up his eyes in wondering gaze
He really didn’t mind how long he waited
It could be minutes, hours or even days
He only knew he’d know her when she got here
She’d smile and give him something for good luck
He’d learned the art of patience often paid well
He’d learned by now to polish up his truck
The bus came round the corner and he started
But then he pulled himself back into pose
It didn’t pay to look too clean or eager
That’s why he hadn’t worn his Sunday clothes
The lady stepped with grace onto the pavement
He took a deep breath, lifted up the truck
And as he moved toward her, barely smiling
He missed his footing, fell and uttered Shmuck
The lady looked to be quite thunder-struck
The day she earned the title Lady Muck
copyright owned by 'Dawn'
I would love to hear your views
on my poetry so please sign the
guestbook above or drop me a line
at the e-mail address below....
More of My Poems
