I'm Not Talking


I’m just going to sit here.
I won’t say a word.
I’ll be like the children
who are seen and not heard.


If I talk I’ll say something
I know I’ll regret,
‘cause I’m so mad at Sissy,
I might not forget.


She broke all my crayons,
then she threw them away,
and she blamed me for spilling
her milk yesterday.


I keep thinking about
what I learned when just small:
Either say something nice,
or say nothing at all.


If I say what I want to say,
I might be heard,
so I’m just going to sit here
and not say a word.

Caterpillar


Fuzzy caterpillar
with your million-jillion feet,
how do you know which foot should go
as you’re walking on that leaf?


You make it look so easy,
right, left, right, the way you do.
Sometimes MY feet get tangled up
... and I have only TWO.

Mr. Caterpillar


Dear Mr. Caterpillar,
I don’t mean to bother you,
but I have lots of questions
about your kids and what you do.


After giving all those baths,
and you tuck your kids in bed,
do dollar signs for shoes and socks
get piled up in your head?


They all wear fuzzy winter coats,
guess you don’t have to buy
any boots or toasty mittens.
You’re such a lucky guy.


Do little caterpillar kids
ever stub their toes?
And if they fall and skin their knees,
where do bandaids go?


Dreaming in their warm cocoons,
is it always a surprise 
to suddenly just wake up
as pretty butterflies?


Mr. Caterpillar, 
Mrs. Caterpillar, too,
Do you remember all their names?
Mom and Dad can’t with just two!

Mike's Bike


There once was a monkey named Mike
who headed out west on his bike.
He soon was stopped cold
with no token for toll
and the tollkeeper said, “Take a hike!”


But the monkey named Mike didn’t hike
and took a new route with his bike.
When one tire went flat,
a mechanic saw that
and told Mike his bike found a spike.


The mechanic then fixed the bike
and said to the monkey named Mike,
“Hey, Mike, you should FLY
and never again try
to ride your bike, Mike.  See the spike?”

Puddle Stompin'


I like saying spring has sprung.
I like the way it sounds.
And spring brings with it lots of rain, 
(God’s wringing out his clouds).


Rain means puddle stompin’!
After rain, they’re everywhere.
No shoes or socks, I’m barefoot.
I get wet, but I don’t care.


I don’t think my mommy likes it
‘cause I get muddy, (Ewww),
but puddles just can’t help it,
somehow mud gets in there too.


Uh oh.  Here comes Mommy.
Hey, look at Mommy run.
Mommy’s puddle stompin’, too?
Now it’s really fun!

My Nose


Right smack dab in the middle of my face
a nose is growing in that place.
I think it looks real goofy there,
but I can’t move it any other somewhere.


Some are big, but mine is small,
and babies have a bump, that’s all.
It isn’t nice to lie, I know,
'cause my nose might grow like Pinnocchio’s.


With a cold it’s stuffy, just because,
near Sissy’s feet ... you wish it was.
Most times, my nose is a friend to me.
It warns, Mom’s cooking broccoli


or other stuff that I won’t eat,
like liver (that’s a yucky meat).
Sometimes it works the other way --
Mom made oatmeal cookies today,


and I also like to smell perfume.
The kind Mom wears stinks up a room.
We’d sure be missin', I suppose,
some real neat sniffin' without a nose.

Bubbles of Trouble


My Grampa says a burp
is just a belly bubble.


Maybe so, I only know
if it’s LOUD, you get in trouble.

My Best Friend


My best friend had lots of curls
but wasn’t like the other girls
who stayed dressed up and always clean.
My best friend wore old blue jeans.


She loved to do things just like me,
like building forts and climbing trees.
She stubbed her toe, and to stop the blood,
we both walked barefoot through the mud.


She could pitch a baseball, make it fly
much faster than most any guy
and when she ran, her feet had wings!
My best friend could do anything.


All summer long we stayed outside
pretending things or riding bikes,
or sometimes wading in the creek
where I fell down and skinned my knee.


One autumn day I saw her cry.
I felt so sad when she told me why.
The doctors told her she was sick
and she needed treatment, really quick.


Her parents drove her. I watched her go,
and doctors still don’t really know
just how to cure the thing she had
that made her sick and feel so bad.


On a rainy night, she went away,
up to heaven where she will stay,
but her memory will never end
‘cause I’ll always remember 
my best friend.