Skinny Cat, et al

Skinny Cat


There once was a dog and a cat,

The dog was especially fat,

The cat was thinner

Cause his only dinner

Was the occasional skinny old rat.



Waiting for the Teachers.


What are we waiting for, sitting in this class?


The teachers are not at school yet.


Why are we not reading our textbooks,

Or discussing last night’s homework marathon?



Because the teachers have yet to arrive

There is no one to tell us what to do.



Why are we not working diligently at our desks

And raising our hands in eager participation?


Because the teachers have yet to arrive

There are no quizzes to be popped and no questions to be answered.


Why are we having recess,

When first period is normally English?



Because the teachers have yet to arrive

We are free to play.

No one is here to reprimand us.


Why are there kids running amok,

Giggling as they wander from desk to desk?


Because the teachers have yet to arrive

We cannot get in trouble!


Why are we comparing homework questions

And discussing each other’s opinions?


Because the teachers have yet to arrive

We are just passing the time.


Why are we taking notes,

While analyzing the readings?



Because the teachers have not shown up

And we are preparing for the inevitable quiz when they get here.


The wall clock tells us that school is almost over.

We have concluded the teachers will not be in today,

So now what should we do?

The teachers have not come.

We better get busy with our homework

In case they show up tomorrow.


Bad Deed


A bad deed cannot be undone.

Secrets and whispers cannot be unsaid,

White lies may turn a sister sad and blue,

A bad deed cannot be undone.

From the radio sad news booms,

The flowers in the local orchard fail to bloom,

A bad deed cannot be undone.


Five Ways of Looking at Tigger



I

When no friends are close,

He comforts me the most.

From his worn nubby ears,

You can see his years.

I look into his wise button eyes,

And I am no longer afraid.



II

During moments of heavy silence,

Can that be him purring?

Not really a purr, more of a whispered growl.



III

By touch he is rough

Worn down by time,

Three generations have hugged the plush off his coat

But I can feel the love every hand left behind.


IV

My grandma’s velvety sweet potato pie,

The butterscotch candies my mom loved as a girl,

Summer Toffee—sticky and sweet,

You can almost taste the color of his coat.



V

Flowers in the spring,

The fire burning in the winter,

Pumpkin picking in the fall,

All these smells are preserved in his fur.

Tigger


Jell-O through my fingers

Squishes and slips,

It dances across my fingertips,

Alive in my hand.

The children laugh and yelp

As they ricochet back and forth.

The lines of the crosswalk never fully fade,

Kids could play for hours.


Those old shoes,

Souls worn thin,

Purple polka dot socks peek out the holes;

No one can pry them off my feet.


Rough and scratchy,

The mat welcomes you,

Invites you to wipe your feet

And scrape away the outside world.



The no-toothed smile

Leaks giggles,

Not a care in the world

The baby, so homely, so beautiful

Schuyler Fox
Age 16, Grade 11
The Fieldston School
Silver Key

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