Syrup on the Shoe

On Saturday, I dropped syrup on my shoe. The stains are still there, so I thought I would celebrate the event with a poem. It is called "Syrup on the Shoe."

Syrup on the Shoe

Pancake clouds in skies of blue

Dropped sugared glassy beads on cue

And rained their maple goodness goo

These drops of sticky sap fell through

Left shiny stains alit with hue

But, lo, the act was seen by few

Was seen by precious privileged few

Those who did found life anew

Intrigued by this what seemed askew

But all their wit and all they knew

And all the thought and high IQ

With all their intellect in view

Left learned men without a clue

Their guess, that it was formed from dew

A lamb, a simple village ewe

Could see that this would be untrue

But thinking men see red for blue

See red for green and gold and blue

Not the booming of a Jersey’s moo

Nor quiet of a kitten’s mew

Nor the scent of every mother’s stew

Could now distract this thoughtful crew

Was its source this human zoo?

Was it dropped from bottled glue?

Without end, thoughts grew and grew

‘Til a man whose thoughts they drew

Said, ‘Tis only syrup on my….”