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When I was in pigtails, years younger than him,
my big brother’s bedroom was filled to the brim
New comic books, from the small corner store
would light up his eyes, from the ceiling to floor
Every nickel or dime, that he earned doing chores
would be spent for the latest.  A hundred or more

My brother, the neat freak, a geek,... I would say
would sort them, like treasures, kept neatly in bins
His room was off limits, from small grubby, hands

I was given such warnings, or my life was to end
Of course, in ignoring….the rules I would bend...

I loved, most, the skin-flint (That old duck that quacked!)
I'm not talking Donald, in the blue sailor suit 
I'd choose Uncle Scrooge, holding big sacks of loot !
Perhaps because my brother, was a bit like that duck
A skin-flint with comics….he hoarded his stacks!

I never dared touch them, or war would be waged
Dread if I tore one, or bent just a page!

But there came on that day, that I'll never forget
My birthday arrived, almost eight, I would bet
I woke in surprise, for at the foot of my bed
Boxes of comics....a present he said
My “Big Brother, Scrooge”, with his heart so divine
Had given me love, of the comical kind !



$ $ $                                                 $ $ $

True Story!


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