Older Poems from the Pen of Olan L. Smith

I Fall

I Fall

©2010, Olan L. Smith

I oft fall,

'Tis true,

From a tree,

A horse,

A chair,

A bike,

A trike,

Hell, once I reclined doing hair,

But never over a mouse,

Or while trying on my mother's blouse.

I did tumble off a car, a hayloft—

Even as I coughed;

I dropped

Walking around the block—

Tripped over a rock

At the crow of the cock

As the clock went, "tick-tock".

I trip at noon, two and five,

Thank God I am still alive.