Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Her four-year old voice
a lint of curiosity
her part in the game
“Where are we going?”
she inquired.
Usually my reply was
a bit of fun, to match
the absurdity of the query
“Crazy, can you lead,
you know the way.”
Daaaddy…

In the heat of the van
thick July air
a bolder retort
Now I was in charge
“We’re going to Crazy,
you’ve shown us often enough,
I can get us there too.”
And we drove, giggling, laughing
down the road
Next stop Crazy

July 11, 2006 21:34

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