Poetry Friday: My Popsicle
With no rhyming book chat to contribute to Poetry Friday this week, we thought we’d squeak into the festivities by publishing an original poem to remind us that, despite the 350 cm of snow we’ve received so far, summer will eventually return….
My Popsicle
My popsicle is dripping,
Drips are slipping down my thumb,
Sticky drips are trickling quickly past my wrist.
It is sticky, slippery business
Licking popsicles in the sun,
But in scorching heat like this
Who can resist?
– Andrea Ross 2002
Be sure to pop over to The Simple and the Ordinary for today’s full menu of poetry offerings.
Poetry Fridays are brought to us by Kelly Herold of Big A, Little A.
