Grandchildren - Indoors

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A little girl made a great big map of all the world

And held it up against herself, where continents all curled

Around her tiny body, with a smile on her face

Imagined "I can do my part to make this world a better place!”

A hand upon her bigger sister's knee

Watching yet an older girl at barre

Both imagining that they could see 

Themselves, instead of others from afar!

Purple and pink and squiggly

The princess looked rather giggly

Which is how I'm guessing the girl looked, too

When she sat down with markers, and drew

The princess with a fuschia crown,

Wrapped up in a lavender gown

Perhaps she drew a self portrait, then said

It's not me, wink wink, but a princess, instead!

A grandson, always moving, always swinging hands and feet

In rhythm, with an innate sense of rock-and-roll beat

Not to mention energy in fingers and in thumbs

Perfect for a great big set of rock-and-roll drums

Maybe teachers need a set of these in every class

For all the kids with energy in extra big measure

Of course, they'd have to tap inside a great big soundproof mass

Building future rock-and-rolling, rhythm-making treasure

Toys are fine, but boxes are best

For making pirate's treasure chests

Jack-in-the-boxes, big and small

Up they jump! Down they fall!

Drawing on the "play room" wall
Hiding in one's own zoo-stall
Riding trains, down the track
Lying, smiling, on your back

I'll take some boxes, every time
Rather than to spend my dime
On toys, that end up thrown away
With boxes kept, at end-of-day!

"Is this a boy?" "Is that a girl?" - a cousin standoff, to be sure

Little eyes show innocence, but hide the sense of raw allure

"I'd like to know, how we'd connect... what could we do, how old are they?

What is in that mind of theirs, what do they know? What might we say?"

"I speak with words, and eyes, and hands, he speaks with trucks, and toys, and blocks

I'm quiet just before I speak, he's constant motion when he talks"

"I like dresses, ribbons too, tied to keep my long hair straight

His hair is tousled, tossed from play, in slightly wild, boyish state"

"I think I'll go away for now, a little dose just might be best

Til we grow up some more, I think I'll give this cousin thing a rest"

A little girl in red-striped dress

Books around her, on the shelves

Sat working, and it made me guess

She must be one of Santa's elves!

She must have hung her little hat

Up on a hook somewhere

For what I saw there, where she sat,

Was pretty golden hair!

Quietly she worked away

On the task at hand

To finish up, that busy day,

The craft that she had planned

Q-tip brushes, spots of glue

Pom-pom balls and jewels

And scraps of colored paper, too

With her little tools

Little hands, little eyes

With heart so warm and dear

Filled with love, Santa-sized

And full of Christmas cheer

She made a paper puppet there,

A smiley, happy toy

A gift that she could share

With someone's little girl or boy

Or really it was meant to make

Some older people glad

A gift that little elf could take

To her mom and to her dad!

There is a highway, underground

Beneath my daughter's table

Her children drive there, round and round

As fast as they are able

There are neither warning signs

Nor one-way signs to heed

Nor edges marked with roadway lines

Nor ANY signs, indeed!

But somehow in the wild chase,

With no one acting rash,

They run an upscale kind of race

And never have a crash

Should tables span the roads we drive?

And signs be taken down?

To keep the "kid in us" alive,

Throughout our little town?

Clearly not; they're kids, but we

Adults still need our rules

But tables still sound fun to me,

And times to act like fools!