A princess superhero,
Tierra, pink cape and all.
She’s out to save the world
By turning bad guys into frogs!
My soon to be seven year old niece made a comment about turning a bad guy into a frog. I thought it was cute and figured it would be a cool superhero!
Vivian has a monkaroo
That she calls banana.
He’s green like a lime
And white like cotton
And he eats orange flavored grass.
He hangs by his tail,
And jumps on one leg.
When I see him I can’t help but laugh.
He carries Legos in his pouch,
Wears red high tops on his feet.
He’s a silly monkaroo for sure,
But one you’d want to meet!
This poem is for my Niece, Vivian Lee. Flamingos have been her favorite animal since she was three. She still adores them, and she turns 7 in May! Enjoy!
Vivian wants a pet flamingo
Who’ll live in her back yard
And wade around in her kiddie pool
Which, for a kid’s pool, is quite large
She will name her flamingo Sally
One of her very favorite names
She’ll put bows in her feathers
And they’ll play dress up games
Sally’s toe nails will be painted like rainbows
She will sparkle in the sun
One leg up, standing proud
Floppy hat and sunglasses on
Every day Vivian will feed her
Special order crustacean yum yums
So the beautiful pink she adores
Will stay bright, and Sally will stay strong
Her mom says maybe next year
She said the same the year before
But Vivian hasn’t given up
Sally the Flamingo is worth waiting for
My diet is nothing but grains.
I’ve learned to like it this way.
So I hold this net,
But please don’t fret,
I’m just seeking a friend to play.
Running with childlike excitement,
Bursting with anticipation.
Settling in to the swing’s embrace,
Small hands hold to life in animation.
Slow increase through repetitive advances,
Then rocketed into another dimension.
Where moments become motion-filled still-frames,
Leaving lasting experiential impressions.
Higher and higher, eyes closed, head back,
Outstretched arms hanging on with delicate rebellion.
Wind strong, applying resistance with futility,
Continuation of flight beckons.
Swinging free, immortalized within childhood memories,
Alive once more, through recollection.
A gift of play and uninhibited fun,
Shared from generation to generation.
A paint brush in a child’s hand,
Aspirations without inhibitions.
Slightly directionless, yet intentional,
A joyous display of playful expression.
The feel of the brush in a firm little grasp,
The power to create at hand.
Each stroke births colorful purpose,
Imagination comes to life, bold and grand.
Through the eyes of a child,
Sharing their world.
I see a beauty contained within innocence,
Life filled with hope, and promise to hold.
I pray the colors they choose remain bright,
Selecting from God’s endless palette.
Continuing to create light, hope, and joy,
As they move within life’s canvas.