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Susan K. Rowse

Tent City

On rainy days my siblings and I
We'd build a tent city and crawl in to hide
We'd use up all of Mom's sheets and the blankets
Stock up with pencils, books and our trinkets
There was eight of us children and I was the oldest
The pack leader...the tallest and even the boldest
I'd tell them ghost stories and use a flashlight
I'd moan...sigh with my voice...and ohhhhh, what a fright
Their eyes would pop out just as the thunder
Puchuated the wee ones and they'd shudder asunder
The chill of the Autumn and winter's encroaching
With the storm of the season as lightning approached
We'd hear the tick of the power then count on our fingers
Cause lightning, you know, is miles before thunder
Mom would say that God was up there merely bowling
Then the story would turn as the winds would start howling
Then stories would change and we'd be on a boat
Sailing the Greek Islands with a three headed goat
Cyclops would peer over straits as we sailed
The sisters would sigh and the boys?...they would wail
Then I'd start rocking to make for high seas
Some of my siblings would turn green and heave
Then with a yell, Susan...Princess, come get some old hats
You're scaring the babies...you gotta stop that!.
Then we'd costume our creative side and make up a play
Then I'd direct our creations on those dark rainy days
Children today don't make time for thinking
They're amused by the computer and Gameboy's blinking
I'm afraid their creativity has gone with the wind
When in days of my childhood we learned to pretend.