For “Friday’s Tree”, I’d like to write in form of simple rhyme.
The “Chosen One” is she, who lives and grows in modern time.
I’ll call her *Daniece* - not her name – her position.
(If you guess who it is, it’s mere supposition.)
She’s a gentle, sweet girl with a smile in her eyes.
And she doesn’t annoy us with “wherefores” and “whys”.
But, the habit of hers which I want to inscribe,
Is the topic, in general, of this diatribe.
For *Daniece* is a Dreamer of great magnitude,
But the place of her day-dreams is often quite rude !
She sits on the Toilet ! – (Oh yes, it is true)
And forgets all the chores which she still has to do.
And, sitting, she sails to a Land of her making;
While, outside, her brother, the door he is shaking !
But, *Daniece* is now “time-travelling”, and though it sounds droll,
Her vessel of choice is a white porcelain bowl !
When *Daniece* was a youngster, she’d sit in a stall,
And she’d sing and she’d “chit-chat” with no one at all.
(This routine of hers which became quite an issue,
Was also the cause of a world-shortage of tissue ! )
And once, with her family, while on the King’s highway;
*Daniece* had to stop for a break on the byway.
She went into the rest room and claimed up her space,
And a reverie descended on her in this place.
*Daniece* was so tardy, that everyone forgot her,
And the parents drove off without their fair daughter !
So, off they all went down the long, dusty road,
Leaving *Daniece* safely on the commode !
All of a sudden, someone remembered; “*Daniece*”!
They all cried aloud in a big burst of release!
And so it continues, after some fifteen years.
If *Daniece* is around and you’ve been drinking beers;
Don’t beat on the door, and likewise, don’t shake it.
Just go outside, if the pain you can’t take it.
For *Daniece* will be there with her lullaby dreams;
And, time passes her by as she sits there and schemes.
It’s her space, it’s her place; it’s the World of *Daniece*;
And the least we can do - is to give her some peace !
The “Chosen One” is she, who lives and grows in modern time.
I’ll call her *Daniece* - not her name – her position.
(If you guess who it is, it’s mere supposition.)
She’s a gentle, sweet girl with a smile in her eyes.
And she doesn’t annoy us with “wherefores” and “whys”.
But, the habit of hers which I want to inscribe,
Is the topic, in general, of this diatribe.
For *Daniece* is a Dreamer of great magnitude,
But the place of her day-dreams is often quite rude !
She sits on the Toilet ! – (Oh yes, it is true)
And forgets all the chores which she still has to do.
And, sitting, she sails to a Land of her making;
While, outside, her brother, the door he is shaking !
But, *Daniece* is now “time-travelling”, and though it sounds droll,
Her vessel of choice is a white porcelain bowl !
When *Daniece* was a youngster, she’d sit in a stall,
And she’d sing and she’d “chit-chat” with no one at all.
(This routine of hers which became quite an issue,
Was also the cause of a world-shortage of tissue ! )
And once, with her family, while on the King’s highway;
*Daniece* had to stop for a break on the byway.
She went into the rest room and claimed up her space,
And a reverie descended on her in this place.
*Daniece* was so tardy, that everyone forgot her,
And the parents drove off without their fair daughter !
So, off they all went down the long, dusty road,
Leaving *Daniece* safely on the commode !
All of a sudden, someone remembered; “*Daniece*”!
They all cried aloud in a big burst of release!
And so it continues, after some fifteen years.
If *Daniece* is around and you’ve been drinking beers;
Don’t beat on the door, and likewise, don’t shake it.
Just go outside, if the pain you can’t take it.
For *Daniece* will be there with her lullaby dreams;
And, time passes her by as she sits there and schemes.
It’s her space, it’s her place; it’s the World of *Daniece*;
And the least we can do - is to give her some peace !
signed, the willow for the Lady of the Lake
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