A Note to My Irreverent Children
©2008 Susan Noyes Anderson
Count me as old as the mountains.
Count me as old as the trees.
But promise me you won’t start counting
rings around my knees!
Count me as old as the mountains.
Count me as old as the trees.
But promise me you won’t start counting
rings around my knees!
I’m good and kind and loyal,
except for when I’m not.
I’m friendly, and I’m willing,
if you don’t expect a lot.
If you can keep your head and not lose favor,
When adolescence makes its grand debut;
If you can trust yourself to never waiver,
And always keep an optimistic view;
I’d like to say a word for weeds,
brave victims of mad plowers.
Why must their sturdy lives give way
to frail, elitist flowers?
I’m thankful for my mother, and
I’m thankful for my dad.
I’m thankful for my sisters, and
for all the fun we’ve had.
A long-sleeved shirt again?
Oh, come on Mom, I just can’t take it.
I know that summer’s coming,
but I wonder if I’ll make it.
You’re growing old so gracefully,”
is what I’m often told.
Is that a compliment?
Should I be proud, or just consoled?
Oh, what a wonder is a sneeze.
You take in air and blow out breeze,
accompanied by gentle rain;
or you can blow a hurricane.