Thursday, July 8, 2010

Pink Lemonade


A lemon
Fell on my head
As I hid
Under the lemon tree
That grew behind
The tool shed.

I let it roll
So it wouldn't
Bring attention
To my hiding place
But I swallowed
My yelp,
As the lemon
Came from the top
Of the tree.

My killer ran past
And I held my breath
And extended the stick.
He tripped
Just as I planned,
His head producing
A delightful clunk
As it connected
With the lawnmower.
All part of the plan.

I shouldn't call him
My killer,
As he failed in
Killing me.
He should have tried
But it was too late.

I dragged him
Into the tool shed
Laying him on the
Dirt floor. Now,
What tool shall
I use on this
Sad creature?

The night stretched out
To the point
Where it snapped
And pulled me out
Into the new day.
The tool shed was now
The way it was before,
Not a tool
Out of place.

As I walked back
To the house,
An old saying
Popped into my head
And I smiled,
Thinking how I would
Alter it to fit my situation.

When life gives you
Make pink lemonade.

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