One day, Michael was sitting on a high carpeted stoop. My five thousand dollar gold ring; he did scoop. He was very little, feisty, and only four years old. I had no idea he was fascinated with shiny gold. Michael's big roving eyes had a mischievous glint. What he was about to do, Wesley had no hint. Michael held a hammer over my ring; he was exact. He was determined that nothing would be intact. He said, "I am going to make diamond dust." Wesley said, "boy! you, I just cannot trust!" Wesley grabbed the hammer, so Michael could not smack. He said, "mama is going to get you, when she get back." "Her things and rings, you should not bother or abuse." "Why did you do this? There is just no excuse." When Michael does something, there is never any limit. I hope his next occupation will be a Jack-In-The-Pulpit." Because this ring situation will not be disputable. However, Michael's butt will become caneable. Copyright (C) 1995 Marva L. Dowdin
Reason for writing:
Nothing is precious to a little kid. I had to get into the bed.
To clam myself and say a little prayer. This is one poem from
my book, 'When It's OK To Be Crazy!' To add a smile on someone's
face. Marva L. Dowdin
Birth sign: Not entered
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