1
“My grandma, she takes
me too literally,”
says Little Literary Tommy
“At Daylight Saving
I tell her to put her clock forward
and she does so, and her clock falls off her table”

"‘Oh, Little Tommy,’ she says
‘See what you’ve made me do!’
and she lands a knock on my head”

2
“Months later
when Daylight Saving ’s over
I tell her to put her clock backward
and she does so, and she grumbles:
‘Silly boy – now I can’t see the time!’
and lands a knock on my head”

3
“She takes this literal thing too far
does my Literal Granny
that when I had a habit of sleeping late
and never getting up for school
she made me sleep out in her garden of herbs
so that I literally got up on Thyme
- and still I got a knock on my head
cos she’d forgotten why I was there in the first place”


4
But one good thing
(we must observe)
Literal Granny does for
poor Literary Tommy:
she knocks enough sense into his head
to prepare him for the hard knocks of  the Literary Life

I decided today when I woke up
To write a poem  for everyone
I'd start off with the very old
And end up with the young

In between I'd have kings and queens
Along with a peasant or two
A genius with a dozen degrees
Even a few without a clue

For the in-laws and the outlaws
Though at times they act the same
If right now they're sitting next to you
No need to mention names

I'd also write it for the Catholics
Protestants and Jews
So as not to leave anyone out
A Methodist marching band with kazoos

What would a poem for everyone be
Without rodeo and circus clowns
The ones that paint happy faces
Over the top of their life's frowns

The tall the short and skinny of course
Those that are tipping the scale
Which these days are most of us
But let's not dip into that well

And of course I can't leave out
All the gays and all the straights
Who never knew that they were straight
Until the gays knew they were gay

I guess we've all been labeled
I really don't mean to offend
Oops...I almost forgot to include
All the mustached women and hairy backed men

If you find you weren't in here
And think that your unmentionable
I'd like you to know my friend
My rudeness was unintentional

You may take this poem for everyone
And do with it what you wish
Perhaps the closest receptacle
Where it may join it's friends...the trash

That's what's killing her,
She's lost, she's full of fear.
Sometimes she's uncomfortable in
Her own skin

She wants to free,
Disappear and turn off
The thoughts that swarm her head
She wants to lock herself in her room
Where no one can see her

The outside world frightens her
She'd rather be alone,
Where anxiety doesn't haunt her.

Remember when you fell down
And everybody laughed?
Not me. I dusted you off, and helped you up.

Remember when you failed that test,
And thought you were stupid?
Not me. I showed you my test, and called you Einstein.

Remember when that rumor was spread,
And thought nobody would talk to you again?
Not me. I called you up, not believing a word.

Remember when you said you were fine,
And meant it?
Not me. I saw the pain in your eyes.

Remember when you tried to get me back,
And be friends again?
Not me.