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The pillow cradled her gray locks,
she dreamed about a goose,
the night was cold and she wore socks
of pleasant baby blue.
When in the morning she awoke,
her dream was still so vivid,
she realised this was no joke,
sat up, became quite livid.
They'd tied (inside her dream) a noose
around the lovely neck
of that benign Canadian goose,
out on the Boathouse deck.
As through the window peeked the willow
she quickly donned her shoes,
picked up and hugged her fluffy pillow..
it was her Mother Goose.
Herbert Nehrlich
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