The Light in the Tunnel

The light at the end of the tunnel may be good,
But maybe not so much the one in the middle.
Near the exit the light will be placed where it should,
But the one where it should not be is a riddle.

That is not to say all riddles are bad for you,
Nor that you can avoid all of your life’s tunnels.
You will sometimes need a tunnel to get you through,
Although they will limit your options like funnels.

That unexpected light may be another path
Or somebody coming the opposite way through.
It is best to be ready to redo your math
And change your course when it is what the clues tell you.

But remain thankful for whatever light there be
When you must travel where the darkness is the rule.
Seeing may not be knowing what it is you see,
But shutting your eyes is the practice of a fool.

Little Bear Got Lost

Little Bear woke from her nap
And went for a walk one day.
Noone asked where she would go,
So she simply did not say.

She wandered out the cave mouth
And then out of her front yard.
Someone should have stopped her then,
But nobody was on guard.

There was a scent in the breeze
Which she had not smelled before.
She had to know what it was
And so she went to explore.

She thought it came from the woods,
Somewhere amongst the tall trees.
The scent grew so very strong
That it almost made her sneeze.

Through the whole forest she went
And all the way down the hill.
She had never gone so far
And it gave her a big thrill.

She saw a strange kind of home
Made out of both stone and wood.
That was where the scent came from
And it smelled awfully good.

And through the hole in the wall,
She saw what she was smelling.
Three plates of pies sat out there
On the table in the dwelling.

One plate’s pie had cooled too much,
The big one had a huge bite,
But the small pie sitting there,
Well, it smelled really just right.

Little Bear climbed through the hole
To examine them up close.
‘Though it’s true, she ate all three,
She liked the little one most.

But it had been a long walk –
So tired after her snack –
She looked around for a while
And found three beds in the back.

One was way too tall to climb,
Another not much shorter.
The last was a bit small, but
Strong enough to support her.

And that is where they found her
When the Goldbergs came back home.
The girl wanted to keep her
And to share her brush and comb.

So Little Bear didn’t return
To her lost home in the wild.
Now she wears dresses and bows –
Whatever to please the child.

At last Bear’s parents gave up
And didn’t worry where she went.
And she does get pie each day
And so loves its taste and scent.

So be warned if you wander;
Take care following your nose.
If you eat too many pies,
You may outgrow your doll clothes.

Rose is a Four-letter Word

Rose is a four-letter word,
Risky message may be borne.
What by the receiver heard –
Be its flower or its thorn?

Is any language so pure
The hearer hears what is said?
How can the speaker be sure
What enters the hearer’s head?

Some listen for the right words
And others judge by the deed,
A gift, a walk to see birds,
Or it’s a big hug they need.

Even when you get it right
You may be off the next time.
Better to forgive than fight –
Love may have no perfect rhyme.

Hear the try and not the fail
When the other person speaks.
Hope the same when next you flail
To say the truth your heart seeks.

Whales’ Tales

If you ride a whale today,
I suggest you hold on tight.
Best grip is the tail, they say,
But it still is quite a fight.

Some, I hear, prefer the spout
Way up on the giant’s back.
Be careful when he breathes out
Or you will smell his last snack.

Mighty fins are on the side
And mostly underwater.
Off is so easy to slide,
I do not think you oughta.

Safest is in the belly
If you do not mind the view.
It is also quite smelly –
It may not appeal to you.

Or you might stay on the boat
And not lean over so far.
Let’s obey the safety note –
And all get back to the car.

Goodbye, Mom

I probably should write a poem
To get out of my funk.
Lines with less to whom to show’em –
My readership has shrunk.

She did not take my wits with her
And my love is still here.
She would not want me to wither –
She’d rather that I cheer.

She knew nothing last forever
And tried to teach me so.
Mere death does not our bonds sever –
It was her time to go.

And what she left within myself,
A living part of her,
Is not a trinket for my shelf,
But thoughts of who we were.

So, I must say goodbye and thanks
For all you gave to me.
I’ll think of you in rhyming pranks
And imagine your glee.

Miles’ Pet Octopus

Mommy? Daddy? May I have an octopus?
He could have the tub when he moved in with us.
When it was time for my bath, he could stay there,
And scrub my back and toes, and shampoo my hair.

What is more useful than a pet octopus?
Helping around the house, he is a big plus.
When I clean my room, he can give me a hand –
Really eight – he is like a whole cleaning band.

Please, please, please, may I have a pet octopus?
I will look after him – he would not be a fuss.
Check his water every day; bring his meal;
Walk him if he wants a walk – is it a deal?

No, I may not yet have a pet octopus.
Well, maybe … What about a pet platypus?