For four of her five years, she and
her Mom,
Had happ’ly lived with us—a time of
calm,
And every day her mom, with hug and
kiss,
Would go to work and leave her
little Miss.
So Tinesy Girl and me, we were a team,
To have her here with me was such a
dream,
And, daily, we would eat and read
and play,
Too soon her mom came home from her
work day.
Now Tinesy Girl’s most favourite toy
of all,
Was not a Pretty Pony or a doll,
Instead a little music box that sang,
With a little, purple phone (to
speak or clang).
The phone, some days before, had
disappeared,
Both Tinesy Girl and me, we'd searched and
peered,
Unable to find out just where it
went,
Decided it would show—we'd not lament!
Now, Mama was a theatre carpenter
Each day she took her to-ol box with
her,
But on this day, she got a big
surprise,
Among her big old tools, a phone—pint-sized.
She thought it had been wrongly so
dispatched,
And brought it home, where it was quickly
snatched,
Then gladly TG played with it till bed,
And when she went to sleep, t’was by
her head!
Next day, when daughter got to work,
she groaned,
Again, amongst her tools, was TG’s
phone,
She smiled—got the message finally…
TG was telling Mom, "Please message
me!"
Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"
We write because we like to please!
And we love her, you know that’s true,
So this is what we writers do . . .
We craft a poem based on a theme,
With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,
Each month we write and have such fun
We can't wait for another one,
With 'MESSAGE ME!' how did I do?
Please go and see the others, too:
Baking In A Tornado: Midnight Message
