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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….”
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