One day a careless boy flew where he didn't want to fly. |
Writer's Cramp: windmill, purple tulips, boy ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Windmill He was only eight When he got too close and The sail commenced to elevate. The windmill creaked. The little boy screamed, As it took him toward the peak. His mother cried out; His father came running, They issued a terrible shout. They stood there perplexed. The preacher started praying. As the boy attained the vertex. Then the lad from that height Bravely opened his eyes And turned a milky, stark white He let out a yelp, Which the people all heard. Then he finished off crying “Help!” The father grew desperate, The mother distraught. What if his clothing should split? The townspeople argued, On numerous plans. Everyone had a “how to.” The boy looked down, And saw purple tulips In the garden plots downtown. But he was awfully scared And so slammed shut his eyes, No more sights did he choose to dare. The wind died out. The windmill stopped, For a pause in its circular route. “Thanks be to God,” everyone cried, But the poor boy suddenly fainted For he was still dangling up high. His father ignored the townmen’s advice And valiantly scaled the windmill's tail, Praying delay would not take its price. The father arrived at the poor lad’s side And gripped his body in hand. Not a townsman had an unblurried-eye. So, children, I hope you will heed this tale Of the careless windmill boy, Who on that day was caught by a sail For you see, his parents had warned That suspenders do suspend, They'd reminded him since he was born. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Winner of the Writer's Cramp 5/10/03 |