Sweet Sixteen

© 12/5 & 6/2001 Dennis L. Pickering Sweet sixteen is about time For Hope to make all things rhyme. In your life Hope, don’t you see? What you can get in this spree. Sixteen is when you begin To accomplish and to win All the good things in your life Don’t have to be someone’s wife Specially if you don’t choose Place where you can get the blues After listening to woos Of all most untruly dudes Know you don’t have to be led To the place you will be fed All good things and also “bread” ↑(“money”)↑ Those things are within your head You just have to take them out And cause them to start to shout Get noticed is what it’s ’bout By some others in the spout What’s this spout of which I speak? It’s the pathway to the peak On which you can go or come Must just watch out for the “bum” The “bum” tries to take over And keep you from the clover Saw when you were a rover Close to the cliffs of Dover Those cliffs only represent Things that have been heaven sent By something else that is bent Hope can get more than a “gent” Because you know you want more Than things you see at one store And it’s thought you do abhor Being placed upon the shore Where you can’t do what you want Others barely hear the taunts Imposed truly by gaunt wants That you’ve found upon your jaunts Gaunt wants are but thin and strong And they help you sing your song Although you’ve not sung for long You know how to sing it strong This song is what you will do In your lifetime in this shoe We all wear to keep un-blue And get others what they’re due Life is thought as so sublime And is lived upon this dime We can never fail to chime As a doorbell does in rhyme What’s this dime on which we live? Just the small world in the sieve This earth can be known a “priv” ↑(“privy”)↑ And in which we know to give Sixteen is a growing time When Hope can grow all the time As long as you take the time To fulfill the family time Which is important as friends Who easily become ends Upon the stiff rope that wends In your life at just these bends Bends in life’s river flowing Upon this globe for growing It is a place for crowing Just like a cock all knowing Who parades around and asks Others to complete the tasks He has put upon the rasps In the sun he idly basks But you do get all things done Though it does cause you to run To all places in the sun You, Hope, think of life as fun. Finis Written December 7th, 2001 © on Dec 07 2001 09:46 AM PST, Dennis Pickering   17 • 0 • 8