|
| |
Pokemon Days
Not a whole lot going on today -
guess I'll clean out my junk.
Here's a rubber band around some cards
on the bottom of my trunk.
I don't think Dan would want these Pokemon cards.
He's on the other coast
in a far-off land called New York City,
in the legal practice, engrossed.
He knew every kind of Poke-critter,
each and every power.
If he would show as much interest in school
as Poke-facts he would devour!
In those days, he liked to tag along,
counting fishes in a brook.
He would listen so attentively
as I read to him a book.
He was gentle, kind and innocent,
such were his quiet ways.
How, fondly I remember my son
back in those Poke-days.
He would tell me 'bout each Poke-beast,
but I couldn't get it straight.
I was busy taking care of things
and couldn't quite relate.
There was Pikachu, the Poke-star,
the brightest of the bright.
Yet, my gentle son, had more use for Machop
who knew just how to fight.
Daniel is now capable and strong.
He doesn't need Machop.
I suppose I can throw away these cards,
this train of thought to stop.
Yet, maybe these cards have magic.
Could Machop help me today -
in my oldness and my greyness?
I better put these cards away.
Copyright ©
David Crandall
|
|