No Sirooo! Poem by Richard D Remler

..........



I did not see it.
Not at all.
This little thing
I think I saw.
I wasn't looking ~
No sirooo!
It's not the sort
Of thing I do.

I'm sure it was
The time of day
I almost always
Look away,
And never notice
Perfectly
The thing I'm sure
I did not see.

The moon was high,
The clouds were too!
The morning seemed
So extra new
I couldn't sleep,
And watched the sky
Gently tap tap tap on by,
When something flitted
Through the trees
Quicker than a
Wheeze can sneeze.
Quick as any whisket hound,
It whisped an inch above the ground
And curled back into the sky,
Then just put-put-puttered by~

And oh, heck no,
I didn't see
Ol' Irma Ipswitch
Look at me,
Her eyes so narrow,
Sharp and gray
I had to turn and
Look away.
I ran and ran
Fast as I could,
Hid under Grandpa's
Possum wood,
In the dark and
Shadowed din,
Right beside
The fire bin.

She scared the socks
Right off my feet,
In all my bent
And scared retreat!
I breathed the morning frost
Just so,
And hoped that Irma
Didn't know
That I was there,
And hiding well,
So well that Irma
Couldn't tell.

I hushed my hush
And hugged the ground.
I did not make
A single sound.
Though my heart beat
Its thicket-thack,
And bugs were nipping
At my back.
I swallowed quiet
As a fish
And made an extra
Secret wish ~
That Irma would just
Fly on home
And leave me safe
And all alone.

Morning tick-tick-ticked
On by ~
I heard Ed Eisley's
Rooster cry.
And not too far
From Millie's Park,
I could hear a
Catbird bark.
I slithered out
Into the mud
And spied the sky
And every tree,
My knee was hurting
With a thud,
But it was
Quiet as can be.

I inch-inch-inched
Up to the house,
A' crackling twigs
Under my toes,
Wiping mud off
From my knees
And brushing katy's
Off my nose
When something in
The sky went crack,
And wind and thunder
Caught my ear,
And there I lay
Upon my back ~
a'wishing I could
disappear!

"Why ya hiding? "
Irma said,
A clever grin upon
Her face.
And I shivered some,
As I turned red.
I clambered up.
I shook my head.
"You spooked me..."
Was all I could say,
But Irma smiled
Anyway.
She took the sweetest,
Deepest breath,
And pointed over there,
Then here.
"It's beautiful,
Don't you think?
Have you ever seen
The sky so clear? "

And when I spied
The morning sky,
Ribbons danced in
Through the trees,
Red and orange, blue
And pink,
And freshly painted
Honey bees.
There were doves upon
Mrs. Dawson's roof,
Lost inside the blue,
Not yet certain if they
Were actually singing
Something new.

Berdie's cat was
On the prowl,
And wore it's silly
Velcro scowl.
It looked at me
And prowled along,
As though I'd
Done the morning
Wrong.

Irma Ipswitch
Smiled full,
A smile I'd never
Seen before.
A shine that shimmered
Like a something
I did not know
How to ignore.
There was music
In her quiet eyes,
A gentle wonder
In her grace,
And all that I
Could do, it seemed,
Was gaze in awe
Upon her face.
She touched the blue
Within the sky,
And it showered
Flakes of morning dew.
And Irma said,
"Go right ahead.
You can touch the
Stardust too."
And so I did,
And oh, it sailed
Up and down our
Bonny sky,
And into the
Breeze that
Whispered by.

"You're funny, "
Irma said to me.
And I suppose
That she was right.
She looked me up
And down as if
She'd caught me
In a better light.
"My dreams can be
A quiet place,
All my very own.
Peaceful as a sunset,
Where I am all alone.
But you are here,
And that is new.
Can it be you're
A Wizard too? "

And with that,
Irma Ipswitch flew
Into the breaking day.
I watched her sail
About the sky,
Not knowing what
To say.
She laughed,
In Irma's quiet way,
And drifted in
Through clouds of white
That danced against
The rainbow's edge,
And deep within
The waking light.
Until she disappeared
In through
Shades of yellow, green
And blue.

And I didn't see it,
No Sireeee!
This little thing
I did not see.
I didn't see it!
I declare.
I'm sure I wasn't
Even there.
I didn't spy
The morning sky,
With Irma Ipswitch
Flying by
Upon her broom
And very high,
As clever as
A butterfly!

Nope! I did not see it,
No Sirooo!
It's not the sort
Of thing I'd do.
It's not the sort
Of thing I see,
When seeing gets
The best of me.
And I'll deny it
To my bitter end.
I'll never tell
A foe or friend
How Irma Ipswitch,
So it seemed,
Sneaked into
A dream I dreamed.
Or maybe, just maybe,
As the cauldron stirs,
It was I who
Sneak-sneaked
Into hers.



Copyright © MMXIV Richard D. Remler


**A Children's Tale**

**An Irma Ipswitch Tale**