Referring to my novel and other stories, a friend said to me, “You tend to look on the dark side.” I suggested he read the following, I wrote for toddlers:

SILLY OLD ME
I wish I were something Other than me;
Not a rock or a tree,
Just silly and free.

A thing more than funny,
Okay, cute as a bunny,
But enough of a looney To make me yell “Whee!”
So what would I be?

Well a cow would be mooing And a dove would be cooing,
And I know,
I know,
An owl would be hooing.

But,
gosh,
how blah And very unzippy,
This coo-hooing stuff.

So downright drippy And boring,
not clever.

Like drab little me,
Who’s never,
not ever,
Been goofy enough!

So what would I be?

Let’s see:
Well... If I were a mouse I’d play a bassoon
And wear a red blouse,
Then fly to the moon In a purple balloon.

But...
If I were a monkey,
A guitar I would strum,
Then ride a blue donkey And bang a red drum.

Or...
If I were a puppy I’d twirl on a pail,
And bark yip and yuppy Til I was hiccupy;
Then go for a sail With a flag on my tail.

Yet...
If I were a frog I’d be looking for fun.
I’d spring from the bog And don a pink vest,
Make friends with a swan And fly to the west,
To croak a song to the sun.

Then again...
If I were a bunny,
I’d strum a green banjo And wriggle my nose,
Then slide down a rainbow Face down on my tummy.
I’d paint myself calico And smell a red rose,
Then dance to-and-fro With bells on my toes.

But then…
Oh my!
With all this wishing For me to be free,
I’d rather be fishing Than having to choose Some other to be.

So…
Just maybe I’ll settle For silly old me.