MISS HALEY WHATSIT
I have this friend, her name is Haley
she comes to visit me just gaily
She often has an impish grin
depending on the mood she's in
And I am really quite impressed
she gets her troubles off her chest
She drives me sometimes up the wall
I feel that I should up and bawl
But then when I look up at her
it doesn't seem the thing to do
I guess I do not really care
what Haley does I simply share
I try to guess just where she's from
I often tell her where to go
She has me in a quandary
from fingertip to pointed toe
I do not like to part with her
She sometimes drives me mad
But that is only now and then
other times she makes me glad
I suppose you could call me a crazy old man
but truly I'd rather you thought me a fan
Do I need to explain or should I just let it go
or take time to wiggle my right little toe
There are so many questions
so few real good answers
I shuffle around like
a gaunt ballet dancer
So now I am closing this silly bit poem
and doing my shoes up and hurrying home
Frank Paylor
Mississauga, Ontario, Canada
February, 1998
From The Pretend Big Book of Silly Poems For a Very Special Granddaughter
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