Birthday Soup
“If soup is what you want, then soup you’ll get.”
I still recall my mom’s indifferent voice
When I announced my mind was firmly set
On shunning cake, the normal birthday choice.
Iconoclast, I thought as I chose soup,
Like Joan of Arc (a heretic to some).
I’d force the baker’s army to regroup;
The soup-day revolution had begun!
But looking back I see my fatal flaw;
I see what made my friends all laugh and mock.
It must have been the end my mom foresaw
As she prepared that fateful birthday stock.
A wish-less birthday soup was all I got
As all the candles sank into the pot.
A Soupy Story
A Soupy Story
I made a great big bowl of soup to eat,
Because I was as hungry as a bear.
I found a little spot to make my seat,
And settled down to eat it then and there.
Along came Jonesy, such a silly cat,
And started begging for a little taste.
I always fed him well and he was fat;
He never let his cat food go to waste.
Then next came Funny, looking for a bite;
He sat beside me in my little place.
I knew that he would sit and beg all night,
And try to lick the soup right from my face!
And so I shared my soup with my two friends,
And that is where this soupy story ends.