Growing up with my parents was sometimes like that Drew Carey improv show, "Who's Line Is It Anyway?" with songs and random poems being created on the fly.
When I started dating Jeff, I sent him this poem. Who says the way to man's heart is through his stomach? God knows, my Crock Pot Lasagne didn't work.
Love Poem for Jeffrey L Harrison
Jeffie Pooh, Jeffie Pooh
All I do is think of you.
When I'm trying to eat lunch
I think of you a whole bunch.
When I'm trying to do work
My mind's a fuzzy, messy murk.
Oh, what is a poor brain to do
When it is full of Jeffie Pooh?
-- Connie Parker Harrison
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Another Christmas Poem
Not long ago a woman who worked with my mother cleaned out some desks at work and found a Christmas card my mother sent after she and my father moved to Tennessee. What great surprise.
Santa Claus may miss our house
Because we've moved, you see,
Down to the South where
"Hush my mouf" and "y'all" comes easily
Down here they say if you watch and pray
And believe if miracles awesome,
On Christmas Day, though Santa might stray,
You'll be visited by Pogo Possum.
Santa Claus may miss our house
Because we've moved, you see,
Down to the South where
"Hush my mouf" and "y'all" comes easily
Down here they say if you watch and pray
And believe if miracles awesome,
On Christmas Day, though Santa might stray,
You'll be visited by Pogo Possum.
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