In Aisle Three

She was a serious nurse boss lady who brooked no silly,
Such a thing was beneath her: far too ‘beverly hillbilly.’
She dealt in the dark with life at dreaded dimensions:
Hospice work needed hearts with towering ascensions.
One day our serious nurse boss lady headed out the door:
Needing to make groceries, she went off to the store.
There she was herself with the bread and round salty crackers;
Rubbing elbows with austin tattoos and travis county-type slackers.
Then down the aisle came a basket full of eggs and pampers,
Along with formula and q-tips and lady-plumbing stuff tampers.
But sitting in that basket in the children’s backward seat
Sat a little lump of lovely with hair red curly and sweet.
As she put her saltines down next to the half-and-half
The baby looked at her with a recognizing smile and a laugh.
The serious nurse boss lady had to return the little baby’s wave
Eventhough she dealt with things so serious, black, and grave.
Heading back to her car her step had somehow lightened.
It would seem to some her mood had simply quite brightened.
As she popped in her car keys a bird landed on the hood;
The avian cocked its head looking as if it had understood.
Then whoosh went said bird as its wings began to flap,
And the serious nurse boss lady’s hands surrendered to her lap—
And laughed and laughed….

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About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on November 2, 2013, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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