Grandpa fell asleep

With a nest upon his head

Sister’s in the teacup

And I should be in bed

Ropes of garlic to the sky

Grandma reaches way up high

The height can surely make you swoon

Yet, my big brother hangs the moon

And far below the twinkling stars

There, nestled on the ground

Lies a tiny pumpkin patch

Where happiness abounds

©2015 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved