The Drop Poem by Marjorie Druschel

Little boys are holy-terrors
Through-out childhood.
Parents can't read miscievious minds
So occurances are understood. Like "first days of aviation,
When stunt-flying was the rage.
One-wingers had open-cockpits
And parachuting hit front-page." We kids were in love with flying,
Even joined "Cereal Radio-Club,"
Parachuting looked as easy
As "shooting fish in tub!" So brother grabbed mom's umbrella
To do "his minuendo. . ."
Shouted "WHEEEE. . . JUST LOOK AT ME"
As he jumped from upstairs window! Sister, "Genny," made her solo-leap,
And both suffered ankle-sprains. . .
We never died from boredom,
'Cause we found life using brains!