Death House Press

My Broken Little Thing

My little thing broke off today,
So now I can’t go out and play,
Like boys whose things aren’t broken may.

I asked my Mom, please fix my thing,
Just think of all the joy you’ll bring,
As once again the girls will sing.

My Mom got down upon her knees,
And in her hand, my thing did seize,
But wouldn’t start till I said “please.”

 

So then she huffed and puffed and blew,

Until my thing was good as new,

And so I said, “Mom, I love you.”

 

That’s why now, I’m filled with joy,
As Mommy said “it’s not a toy,”
And “It’s not a ‘thing,’ my silly boy.”

I went off to play, with Mommy’s kiss,
And with the name, the name is this,
It’s not my “thing” but my…

                                                 shoelace.