Daisy, Daisy

Give me your answer, do.
I'm half crazy
All for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish marriage,
I can't afford a carriage.
But you'll look sweet
Upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two.

So many styles and types of bicycles. The pink bicycle is a 1960 Spacelander.
The second two person bicycle is a Western Flyer Tandem.







On My Way

When I was baby,my first ride
Was in a carriage, up so high.
When I was one I got four wheels
On a toddler rider.
You should have heard me squeal.
When I was two, my wheels became three.
A tricycle pushed by my very own feet.
When I was five, four wheels once again
A two-wheeled bike with training wheels for friends
At the age of six, I was ready to fly.
Off came the trainers, just my bike and I.
The world became larger as my legs grew stronger.
Taking me faster, my trips getting longer


At 16 my bicycle had an engine.
A motorcycle, a wonderful invention.
But for enjoying the world as I glide by,
Nothing beats my bicycle under the sky.
It benefits both the body and mind.
The enviorment too, no fumes left behind.
A wonderful trip for family and friends
A few miles and back, good food at the end.

Drafted

How many times have you found yourself drafted into doing something you really didn't want to do, a friend needs help, your child needs 3 dozen cupcakes Today, your child, now a mother, frantically looking for a babysitter as hers cancels out at the last minute.
The blogspot is the home of the draft of the writing kind. You suddenly feel cold because of an unexpected draft. There are draft horses, gentle giants used for all kinds of farm chores. It is also a term used by race car drivers where you use the draft created by another car to move forward, I assume to save gas.

Drat That Draft.

I feel a little cold
But no matter what I do,
I can't find the hole
That draft is coming through.
The temperature is dropping,
The draft is getting stronger.
I have to find the source.
I can't stand it any longer.

First I wet my finger
And hold out in front.
Seems to make no difference,
I continue to be stumped.
I see a feather drifting
And try to backtrack
It's floating flight but
It twists and turns.
No help there, alack.

So I chose my final option.
A flame will surely show
The way to go to plug that hole
Letting in the cold.
I heard a gentle hissing
As I seemed to near the source
And suddenly I was flying
From an explosion's Tremendous force.

And so my friends
My lesson learned
A simple one, it's true.
If you feel cold,
Wrap yourself up
Unless you like black and blue.

Another Mealtime Post

Lunch. On my shift it comes in the middle of the night. For others, it's in the middle of the day. You can meet friends for lunch, have a business lunch, have a three martini lunch (why is that drink so popular, anyway? must be a James Bond thing). And for those who can't get out of bed in time for breakfast, we have brunch. My favorite type of lunch is a picnic lunch. Finger foods, kisses and wine.

In The Meadow

Pleasant way to spend the day.
Idling the time away.
Not a cloud in the blue
Interrupting the view.
Casual dining, it's true.

Lying on the blanket
Under the sun above
Near the one that I love
Cold chicken and wine
Hot love's on my mind.

Pressing lips together,
Igniting the flames,
Now the blanket becomes their nest
Instead of wine,they drink each other,
Caressing the skin,slowly undress.

Lovers exploring,learning to
Understand each other pleasures
Nearing the hard earned peak .
Inferno explodes,again and again.
Clearly the best of the desserts.

Hidden Treasures

Boxes come in all shapes and sizes. You have hat boxes, cereal boxes,shipping boxes,
shirt boxes,boxes with windows and boxes that hide what's inside. Boxes are some of the greatest toys ever. They can become a clubhouse,a spaceship,part of a costume, anything limited only by the imagination of a child.

Treasures in the Attic

I saw a box
That was made of wood.
I was sure that it
Held something good.
I pried open the top
And what did I find?
A treasure of things
From long ago times.

There were hats and dresses,
Wigs with long tresses,
Gloves and shoes
Of varying hues.
A train and a doll,
Jacks and a ball.
A pile of old letters
But one thing even better.

At the very bottom
Of that old box.
I found a diary
And the key for the lock.
I opened that book
And started to look
For the secrets hidden inside.
I was astonished, amazed
That back in those days
The secrets that were written within
Were something much like
Something I might write.
Life coming full circle again.

I never had thought
Great grandmother taught
Her children much as I do mine.
She fell in love, broke her heart,
Thought they never would part.
Picked herself up
And started over again.
New love did bloom
Under the light of the moon
This one held true to the end.

Although much has changed
Between then and now,
One thing will always be true.
If you hide your life
In a book in a box,
Someday someone will read about you.