In Haste
by Shirley Smith Franklin
Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home,
'time to write another NaPoWriMo poem.
Your house is on fire, your children have flown,
ideas I dreamed had fled by the dawn.
Like 'the cat's in the cradle,' a game made of string,
as soon as it took shape, it didn't mean a thing.
Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home,
I'll have to take a raincheck on today's poem.
by Shirley Smith Franklin
Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home,
'time to write another NaPoWriMo poem.
Your house is on fire, your children have flown,
ideas I dreamed had fled by the dawn.
Like 'the cat's in the cradle,' a game made of string,
as soon as it took shape, it didn't mean a thing.
Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home,
I'll have to take a raincheck on today's poem.
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