Ramblin' Rouge
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The charming Miss Lola dwelt in the small town, at the edge of Red River,
With only her goose, 'Rouge.' She was named after her spot of wet vigor.
Rouge was the darling of Miss Lola, like precious spring, coming to visit;
And was forever roaming from river to house, like golden stars, in orbit.
Rouge frequented every room, as if aware that it was her dwelling, too;
Like the blue hours of glittering sun, when purple butterflies follow you.
Famished friends came to dinner, and ofttimes elderly neighbor, Franklin;
Whom Lola found to be procrastinating, like breezes in tresses, tangling.
Daydreaming days were found feuding, with phantasmic, fragrant night.
And at in-between hours, family visited, wearing the colors of love rites!
They lived in the house of simples pleasures, like the cup of tea for Lola;
Or fruit treats for Rouge. Also, chatting by the rose bush, with pal, Nola.
Dusk skies sparkled in plum sincerity, on the street of stillness surrender;
Where sweet Williams whispered tender nothings, in summers of splendor.
Neighbors shared noodles and new notions, during the numberless visits,
In noontimes of orange sun normalcy, that tick away life's finest minutes.
'Aeonium pink witch' soared on a broom, soon after bursting into bloom;
While 'blackout purple willows' stumbled blind, on jade nights of perfume.
'Baby face' orchids were bawling, still wrapped in wealth of warmer days;
And 'giant teddy' sunflowers begged cuddles, in their purple, fluffy ways.
One evening a rainstorm started suddenly. Later, someone rang the bell.
It was Franklin, caught in the rain! To ride out the storm, he'd sit a spell.
Rouge wandered in shortly after Franklin, through her own swinging door;
For too much water is distasteful, and, frankly, even to a goose, it's a bore!
The rain went on and on for hours, so they all had dinner and went to bed.
Franklin was too pooped to say his prayers, but Lola's were unfailingly said.
Rouge was always present as Lola said them. It was as if she understood;
Like the red roses, beside the front porch, knowing a spicy scent, is good.
Rouge was first to arise next morn. Franklin tripped over her on the steps!
Rouge flapped her wings, unhurt. A landing averted harm to Franklin, next.
Franklin regretted not saying his prayers! He was grateful, and so was Lola;
Like bitter regrets of minty springtime, until buds awaken from their coma!
'Goosey goosey gander,
Whither shall I wander?
Upstairs and downstairs,
And in my lady's chamber.
There I met an old man,
Who wouldn't say his prayers,
So I took him by his left leg,
And threw him down the stairs.'
Copyright © Evelyn Judy Buehler | Year Posted 2025
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