rhyme time

I'd skip reading this one if you're my neighbour.

I have a prized collection of Dr. Seuss books that my mother bought when my brother was born. This past week I read Yertle the Turtle and Other Stories to my son before he was headed for bed.

I like Dr. Seuss a lot. And the three tales within the book reminded me of something that I wrote back in the muddy middle of 2020. Maybe it was Geisel’s cadence. Maybe it was the tone. Who knows? Who cares?!

But today my offering for you is a simple poem.

The woman who lives in the suite below mine
Is often quite cranky and no one knows why.
She doesn't like music. We know that for sure.
She's been very clear. We need not infer.

If we should be bold and play some guitar,
It's no time at all til she declares war.
Standing below us in whatever room
She'll bang on the ceiling. She must use a broom.

Sometimes she's so mad she'll knock on my door
And if it should open she gives me what for.
"What are you doing? YOU'RE RUINING MY EARS!"
It's the same every time. We've been neighbours for years.

When my husband learned bass she was fit to be tied.
It got to the point where we practiced outside.
One evening I think that she called me an ass.
(But that one was fair. I'd hired some brass.)

She says that reporters will hear of the news
Of how we play music on some afternoons.
I wish she'd make good on those idle threats!
The pandemic's been brutal. I could use the press.

But sometimes I wake in the dead of the night
When her TV is blaring and I ponder my right
To knock on her door, say "It's three in the morning!
TURN THAT THING DOWN. This is your warning.
And I'm tired of breathing your secondhand smoke!
Ever heard of a heart attack? How 'bout a stroke?"

But I go back to bed. I try to unwind.
Try to be like my mother: gracious and kind.
And maybe relations will some day improve.
Nothing gets better when everyone's rude.

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That part about practicing outside is 100% true. It worked great in the summer, anyway. It looked a lot like this: