Home Poem by Ted L Glines

Home
by Ted L Glines

That little birdhouse standing there
feeling lonesome grey and bare
its perch has long since worn away
no birdies ever come to play
no cheeping baby birds at rest
just a mournful empty nest
remembering olden days so blessed
(a lack which leaves me sorely pressed)
a little dowel - mayhap a stick
would make a perch - that's the trick
and add some bright and cheery paint
golden trim to make it quaint
let's scatter seeds upon the ground
so the birds will come around
to make their happy tweety sound
in this 'new place' they have found.


Author's Notes: Drat, now that I have immortalized that old dilapidated birdhouse (I drive by it every day) , I'll have to go fix it. Grump, mutter mutter, gripe and grump (sneaky secret grin 'cause no one's looking) .