Ilene Bauer Poet Rhyme

Gravel

The driveway’s made of gravel,
Preventing slips and skids,
But really, more important,
It’s a magnet for the kids.

They pluck the rocks and toss them,
The pebbles raining down,
Then line them up, creating
Highways in a mini-town.

They scoop them up and let them
Slowly trickle through their hands
And watching them, I realize
What each Nana understands – 

The simplest items can provide
Imagination’s seeds.
Some freedom under loving eyes
Is what a grandchild needs.

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Maurice Rigoler August 26, 2018 at 7:31 PM Wise words in the final stanza, Ilene. As a boy rural roads were all gravel and walking on them barefoot did a job on our tender soles. I didn't do much with gravel stones except throw stones at a rabbit or sometimes the old man who trudged the highway now and then. I wrote a long poem about him. / M

Jan Allison August 26, 2018 at 5:46 PM what a charming rhyme Ilene and isn't it wonderful they are playing outdoors and having fun and not stuck indoors on computers:-) hugs Jan xx

Pat Adams August 26, 2018 at 5:33 PM This is very true, and as always very well rhymed and written. When I was a kid in Wichita, we had lots of grass but of course played in the dirt! Made roads to imagined cities etc. Seems like not so much room for imagination with the new games and what not!