Grandpa Pencil who am I?
I often wonder with a sigh.
Am I me 'cause I read books
Or just because of my good looks?
What if someone stole my head
And put a pumpkin there instead
Then took the stolen head outside
So it could have a pony ride?
As my head rode by the creek
Would the wind still kiss my cheek
And would I smell the new mown hay
The same as I did yesterday?
Would I hear the gentle breeze
Rustle through the autumn trees
And would I see the tall brown reeds
Or just a bunch of pumpkin seeds?
Would a tear drop if I cried
When I heard my fish had died
Or would I simply ooze a scoop
Of yukky, yellow pumpkin soup?
Would they think me such a fool
When I took my head to school
And put it on my story book?
Would the others laugh and look?
You know I do my very best
But what if teacher gave a test
And I forgot and left my head
Back underneath my mother's bed?
But Grandpa here's my hardest task
I really am afraid to ask
Would you, and now my face is red,
Still love me with a pumpkin head?
Robin A. Cartledge