A Story Made Poem by Ernestine Northover

The table with its sunshade wide,
listened to the chattering.
Old and young sat side by side
around it, gaily nattering.

The birds perched nearby in the trees,
listened to the chattering
rising up on a light breeze.
Indeed the sounds were shattering.

The sun that shone down from the sky,
listened to the chattering.
Knew that once the rain came by,
there would be gentle pattering.

The young and old who felt the drops,
ceased to do the chattering.
Went indoors under rooftops,
resuming their loud yattering.

The sunshade dripping from the hail,
listened to the chattering.
Felt so sorry for a snail,
getting such a harsh battering.

The chairs where everyone had sat,
listened to the chattering.
Many were now lying flat.
there had been quite a scattering.

And so all these things a story made,
all about the chattering.
The elements well displayed,
when all received a splattering.


© Ernestine Northover