Poetry
I wrote a poem for my granddaughter Ila Enslen for her 14th birthday.
Ila At 14
Finally, a check that’s not late.
Met the postman at the gate.
You turn 14 July 28.
No, you can’t start to date.
Don’t even think about a mate.
Driving vehicle must also wait.
Small mixed groups can congregate.
It’s time to be a soccer great.
Beat up the boys that irritate.
Make them cry and infuriate.
You’re my birthday girl first rate.
To me I’d ship you in a crate.
Is this poem bad enough to hate?
Must have been somethin’ I ate.