Two blonde buttercups from
Topeka stopped in last night,
Ages Two and Four,
With all of life’s accompanying
Highs and Lows. Bless it!
This adult home rang with
Little beings, who wanted salad
And didn’t want salad,
Who followed their hearts and scampered
Diaper-free for a little minute,
Who intuitively embraced
The magic in a bag full of
Beanie Babies – my one ace to help
Them through their 5:15 dinner hour.
The bag held frogs, rabbits,
Fish, bears, puppies, pigs, and
Two hours later, while we dined on our
Thai curry to saxophone covers,
And Topeka Mom and Dad had
Wilted into bed, done for the day,
A little popsicle-pajamaed
Inquisitor came exploring.
Golden hair awry, carrying her pink ‘wee,’
She simply materialized, a personality,
A being intact,
And sat on my lap and discussed life.
Memories, voices, of my three dark-haired
Rode their own highs and lows
Within these walls.
And Oh, their babies yet to come.
Time is a trickster. All is gone so quickly,
And all is just ahead.
When the buttercups headed out
To see Grandma at the beach,
And I went back to clean the rooms,
Each to their kind, reposed
Against the pillows.
Went into their placement
I want to leave them –
Beanie Babies ordering their world.