I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
but I can tell you, anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.
It was a good thing they taught that one to me because come Halloween time, we had one woman in the neighborhood who would make us recite something for our treat, and it was the only poem I could come up with. She probably heard it a hundred times by the end of the night.
Because of those poems, I would come home from school and write limericks and other short poems in my bedroom. Then I'd run to show them to my father and ask him to pick his favorite. A sheet of those poems may be in that box of papers my mother saved for me, waiting to be found again. I'd write about anything. I remember there was a poem about Vick's cough syrup. See? Anything.
Happy Halloween, everyone. And remember to have one poem ready to recite,
just in case.