A friend away a friend some day
a friend can’t stay all the day
a friend won’t pray a friend can’t play
not today is what they say
a friend they say a friend always
a friend who may return some day
in a way you might say
hope molts and regrows feathers today
I think my inner four year old wrote today’s poem. I am thinking about the song my mother taught me, very young, for when I was frustrated.
My sister and I loved this song and others, Samuel Hall and “I don’t want to play in your back yard, I don’t like you any more. You’ll be sorry when you see me, sliding down my cellar door.”
I gave a young friend a book of rhymes. He looked at me with some horror. “These are nursery rhymes.” I grin at him. “Look again. It’s a book of insulting playground rhymes, suitable for all occasions.” He looked at the book again and held on to it.
The photograph is from the National Museum of Women in the Arts again. Another fabulous painting that seems to fit my theme.