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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Ray has a hole, now, taps a long bar in, And ties the winch to it, and turns it on, “STAY BACK!” he howls, “THIS CABLE’S ALMOST GONE!” The bar flies out, the cover slips, the din The winch-engine and all the shouting makes Is so loud, we can’t hear him anymore – Bobby, I mean – but Ray is ever sure, “I THINK HE’S HERE! COME HELP ME, FOR GOD’S SAKES!” The cable’s broken, Ray shuts down the winch, And searches through his truck-bed for a rope… There’s nothing there, but we are full of hope, ‘Cause Bobby’s shouting’s louder, “IT’S A CINCH!” He cries, “I’M JUST BENEATH THE COVER, NOW!” (The cover’s loose, cement’s cracked, all around, And Ray has five bright bars laid on the ground) “NOW, WEDGE ‘EM IN, AND PULL, WHEN I SAY, ‘YOW’!” So, Ray says, ‘YOW!’ and we all haul and heave, The cover slowly lifts (three inches thick) Then Bobby says what cuts us to the quick: “I’m ten feet down, and floating, I believe!” We get the cover off, and bring a light, And Bobby’s head and hands are all we see, “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! NOW I HAVE TO PEE!” He howls – he’s bruised and cut, he looks a sight, But we have never seen a happier face, In spite of weeds and muck stuck in his hair, And, in one hand, he holds… MY DADDY’S BEAR! (I’d thank him, but this just is NOT the place!) Instead, “you stupid lunk! You could have died!” I shout, “and there is no way down, or up!” He quotes STAR TREK, and says “don’t be a GRUP*!” But I have an IDEA! Ray’s eyes are wide – “Just tie me with my belt, to the winch-cable!” Ray slowly shakes his head, but knows I’m right – He winds the belt around my leg, as tight As I can take it… “I’LL GRAB HIM, IF I’M ABLE!” So, down, down, down, I go, my face bright red, Until I touch his hands, “WHOA! GOOD ENOUGH! …I need to grab them both, Bobby – it’s tough… Henry can go! My dad’s already dead!” And Bobby starts to cry, “BUT, ‘LIZABETH!” But then, he lets it go, and grabs my hand, “Dear Daddy, I know you will understand,” I whisper, we lock eyes… and draw a breath… Ray raises us, I grit, my leg is screaming, When we get out, our parents are both steaming, But Ray and all the kids are simply beaming, (I’m sure that both of us will get a reaming!) Once I’m untied, massaging my poor leg, Comes Bobby, shyly, weeds stuck in his braces, (Henry the bear, somehow, got caught in his shoelaces!) I hug him, squeeze it out, all down a peg, We give a laugh, a yelp, a sob, a shout! We now know what Priorities are about! *GRUP -- pejorative for GRownUP
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