I am not sure what the term is for a poem where the rhyme scheme is not the same throughout (more literary types will know, but right now I'm thinking the possibilities are "inconsistent", "cr*p" or "lazily edited"), but here is an attempt at a poem to capture the spirit of our trip to Clinton this year. Blake has become fond of Dr. Seuss, and well, this doesn't even begin to come close, but I liked experimenting.
We missed our flight, not the best of starts,
but on that we didn't dwell.
We made it to the Clinton house
to stay a little spell.
Ice cream cones, steam train rides
Trips to the beach and changing tides.
Blake enjoyed running on the lawn,
And still he rose at the crack of dawn.
To be entertained by Granny Karla with vintage Playskool
driven all the way up north
Shall we go to the swings, was the frequent cry,
and so the troops set forth.
Across the bridge to the beach they went,
at least 2 times a day
And thus we found that Clinton was
the perfect place to play.
What's that wrapped around your finger, Blake?
Why, it's just my Gran.
By the end of the trip he was also quite fond
of "Jungle Jim" and Aunt JoAnne.
We got to meet the lovely Clara,
with parents Tom and Kate,
Most nights I crashed, quite early on,
so not once did close the gate.
A tea party for Thomas the Tank
Hosted by a nutty librarian,
Beluga whales and barking seals
We loved the Mystic Aquarium.
Baby Noah awoke to find
Some fuzzy dice set by his side.
And as he grinned at Grandpa John,
His hand-eye coordination sure came along.
Crabbing on the dock, while peppers were grilling
And in the fridge, IPA was chilling.
The sad news that Aunt Mae passed away
Was the only cloud on an otherwise gorgeous day.
On the flight home, the boys uttered not a peep
As the eventful 10 days gave them reason to sleep.
Waterside Lane is a special place
and we loved it even more
The perfect place for little boys to play,
what fun we have in store!