(I wrote this little poem for my daughter last week.
\nI hope you will enjoy it. \u2013 Jim Meskimen)<\/p>\n
A poem walked down a busy street
\nAnd saw a friend she\u2019d like to meet.<\/p>\n
So, off the sunny curb she strode
\nInto the middle of the road.<\/p>\n
Distracted by the friend she spied,
\nshe did not look from side to side.<\/p>\n
The motorists, all heading home
\nwere unprepared to stop for poems<\/p>\n
that dash all willy-nilly forth,
\nand so they struck her down, of course.<\/p>\n
Her meter was the first to go,
\nher verses all went to and fro.<\/p>\n
Her light and buoyant rhythms next
\nwere crumpled, as you might expect,<\/p>\n
Until her meaning and her sense,
\nher over-arching sentiments<\/p>\n
became no longer poetry,
\nbut were like trash one often sees.<\/p>\n
A lesson, older than the stars:
\nEven a poem must mind the cars.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
(I wrote this little poem for my daughter last week. I hope you will enjoy it. \u2013 Jim Meskimen) A poem walked down a busy street And saw a friend she\u2019d like to meet. So, off the sunny curb she strode Into the middle of the road. Distracted by the friend she spied, she did … <\/p>\n