The Garbage Truck
On Mondays when I babysit,
There's one thing that's a certain hit -
A visit from the garbage truck
(Unless the need for naptime's struck).
We hear the truck as it draws near
And Henry makes it very clear
We'd better get ourselves outside.
(Such passion cannot be denied.)
We race out to the driveway's end
To greet our Monday morning friend.
The worker waves a friendly hi
But Henry's serious and shy.
He watches, though, with great intent
And gazes at me, quite content.
I understand, though he can't speak,
That we're all set until next week.
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