Poetry Week Returns!

[deckardcanine]

We celebrated my Mom's birthday a day early. I gave her a card with this inside:

It's been a few years since the last time I tried
Writing poems each day for a week.
This year, when I looked at your wish list, I sighed
And regretted my poem-free streak.
At present, I don't know what subjects I'll use
That appeal both to me and to you,
But I'll sound the alarm to awaken my muse,
And the rhythm and rhyme will come through.

(The poetry wasn't my only present to her, but she acted surprised to receive anything more. She loves it that much.)

Well, I would have liked to come up with this earlier in the day, but here goes:

I once knew a six-year-old boy
Whose one so-called friend was a toy,
Or at least that's what other folks thought,
Yet time and again the two "fought."
The "fighting" would leave him a mess,
Thus causing his mother some stress,
But she always blamed no one but him.
In hindsight, this story looks grim.
Was the toy as alive as the lad?
If so, it was certainly bad,
For who but a demon would cast
An illusion that few could see past?
On the other hand, maybe the kid
Just imagined that life. If he did,
He was causing himself lots of pain.
Either way, were his parents insane?
This behavior's not normal in youth.
They should seek out the terrible truth.
But nobody normally sobs
When thinking of "Calvin and Hobbes."