A Nightly Ritual
A nightly ritual at our house was daddy picking me up and putting me back in bed.
For every night I tossed and turned and fell out of bed and on to the floor, nuff said.
It usually only happened once a night but poor daddy always looked so weary.
No matter how hard I tried to stay in my bed, the results were sad and dreary.
One Christmas Eve my daddy heard a loud explosive thump and came to me.
But he found me safe and sound in my bed, and he was very relieved.
The next morning when we all arose we had an awful shock in store.
For there laid our lovely Christmas tree smashed onto the hardwood floor.
All the ornaments were kaput but Daddy put a nail in the tree to help it mend.
That night was the end of the nightly ritual, for I never fell out of bed again.
Written by,
Bonnie May
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Great photo - and what a terrific poem . . . one to always remember!!
Hugs,
Lance
Georg
PS: the picture, that was you, it must be you, that can't be but you!
CarolHawks
Sheila
hugs
Fee
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Such a humourous and innocent write. Childhood is wonderful, but it has it's "downfalls", Sounds like you had a great Dad.
Mary