Counting

My mother counted meatballs As she plunked them in the pot. When I exercise, I count each rep So I know what is what. We’ve been told to count our blessings And, of course, to count the change. Counting sheep to an insomniac Would surely not seem strange. A dieter counts calories. (For that, please count me out.) A KO’d boxer hears the count And knows he’s lost, no doubt. A countdown at a launch pad Lets us know that blast off’s near And the thought that counts reminds us What we want might not appear. If you’re counting on an ending To this little counting spree Then don’t worry since you know that you Can always count on me.