So Lucky

I should be so lucky
I should feel so good
To be fully in love
And completely understood
You’re prettier than your picture
Nicer than your posts
I’d love you forever
On all and any of the best Southern coasts
I can harmonize with that
In any shower stall
Yes, put in your earplugs
Twouldn’t mind that at all.
I’d love to know the answer
I’d love to know your name
To be so fully in love
And to know you felt the same
I’m nicer than my picture
And darker than most posts
Let’s get mingled together
Oh, how the elder hippy boasts

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December Trees

Twas a fetching kind’o December wind;
Blew poor Sally Gossamer Wingstep so very far;
Out of the copse across lands of the fairiekynd,
Past The Queen’s Tree and Jonathan’s guardian webstar.

Twas over by Fablehaven where the three girls dwelt,
Playing with the new puppy as music wafted from the frosted windows.
Such a nice place with goats and cats and one lone fox: Redpelt—
Mind, stay out of his way, hast no sense of humor, goodness knows!

But what a curious thing was occurring inside that house!
My fairy dust, what are they doing? Caressing a fir tree?
With boxes of shiny bulbs, and spikes, and stringy tinsel;
All the while singing strange songs were those sisters three.

Sally flew in the barely open mail slot to listen:
“Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way,”
The three girls warbled at full joyous throat.
Sally liked the little ditty, but what’s a “sleigh?”

Sally exited through the mail slot and headed on home,
Grateful for the December trees and the Queen’s leave to roam.

A Rainy Spring Weekend

So, have you decided to come on over
And do some boy and girl things:
Consume Moon Pies while making eyes
Listening to records as the hippy gypsie sings?
We could walk down to the gulch;
Maybe even while holding hands,
Traipsing along while wrenching a song
From one of our favorite rock and roll bands.
I like the Stones and Zeppelin.
Yeah, Taylor Swift is totally cool—
I like ‘Blank Space’ and her girly-girly face,
Just wisht she’d finally find a suitable fool.
But, down pours them Spring rains
And our Sophomore finals are coming fast.
My Dad says I have to make A’s,
So seems Sunday’s schedule is cast.
Maybe next weekend you can visit
And we’ll do boy and girl stuff—
Laughing at jokes like regular folks;
Seems these weekends are never long enough.