Pockets Full of Rye
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

I’ve been a crooked man
and walked a crooked mile,
I’ve carried green and yellow baskets
and dropped love letters on my way,
I’ve lost shoes and fiddlesticks, and carried
pockets full of rye, I’ve climbed water spouts
over and over, I’ve tried to be a bird in the feather,
and my cupboards have all been bare,
and I’ve been both Tweedledum and Tweedledee
and recited poems for a one-person audience,
I’ve sat on tuffets and sat in corners,
and asked the rain to go away and come again
another day, and sometimes I still search
after silver bells and cockle shells,
I’ve had many a great fall, and I find myself
yet again, looking down over the edge of the wall.