When I was growing up I just adored the delightful, whimsical verse of Edward Lear. I've often thought how it would be to try my hand at writing in a similar style. This is my first attempt.
A Morning Conversation
A blade of grass so green and small
Grows upon the ground
He looks at me so high and tall
And utters not a sound
"Good morning sir, and how are you?"
To him I gently ask
"I'm very well today" he says
"It's kind of you to ask"
He looks at me and softly speaks
"What plans have you today?"
"I pray you have a thought for me"
"Let your mower silent stay"
I start of guilt I felt for sure
My plans indeed were made
I knew that what I had in store
Was the mower for the blade
But now I couldn't bring myself
To venture to the shed
A friend is an important thing
I wouldn't see him dead
But how could I explain my need
To never mow the grass?
I while away the time you see
While sitting on my arse
And so my friend grows green and tall
While the mower gathers rust
He greets me every morning now
A friendship meaning much
