In a world of whimsy, where dreams take flight,

Where stars twinkle softly in the velvet night,

A nursery rhyme weaves its magical tune,

In the land of wonder, beneath the moon.

A little mouse scurries, its tiny paws,

Exploring the meadows, without any pause,

Through fields of green, it dashes and plays,

In this enchanting world, where imagination sways.

A bee hums a melody, buzzing in delight, Collecting nectar, taking joyful flight,

Its wings flutter gently, a delicate song, A harmonious rhythm that lasts all day long.

The moon shines brightly, casting a gentle glow, Casting shadows on the earth below,

A friendly face, beaming in the sky, Guiding us with its light, as the night draws nigh.

A cat with a fiddle, a merry sight to see, Plucking the strings with a joyful glee, Its melody dances, filling the air, Creating a symphony, beyond compare.

A dish and a spoon, a playful pair, Dancing together, with a skip and a flair, They twirl and they spin, in perfect harmony, Their bond unbreakable, for all eternity.

So gather 'round, children, let your spirits soar, In this magical realm, where fantasies roar, Where animals talk and objects come alive, In the land of make-believe, where dreams thrive.

Let your imaginations run wild and free, In this whimsical world, where you can be, Anything you desire, anything you dream, In this enchanting nursery rhyme, let your heart gleam.

My parents divorced when I was five, and as an only child, my childhood was almost always entire days with just my mom and me. These days included movies followed by lunch or ice-cream at Rompelmeyer; birthday dinners at Benihanas or Il Boschetto; trips to Disney World, Bermuda, Trinidad, Europe, Canada; Broadway plays; ballet at Lincoln Center or City Center; rainy days, snow days or Saturdays of Monopoly, 221B Baker Street, chess, 500 rummy; Sunday church then Sunday afternoon tv movies... It was a very full childhood for which I am forever grateful. Despite being the only child of a single parent in a neighborhood where that was distinctly frowned upon, I was beyond fortunate.

I have a single memory of one whole day spent with my dad. I was fourteen. I spent the night at his apartment and we were up at 4 am to catch a boat. We had a cooler full of Colt 45 for him. I had a ham sandwich and a ginger ale in my backpack. Near the dock we bought some minnows for bait then boarded a fishing boat. We were on the water for hours. My dad made friends immediately and introduced me around with more than a little pride. This is my baby girl, Danny. Watch out for her. He fished a little, drank a lot, and spent some time playing cards below deck. I learned to put the hook through the eye of the minnow and almost won the pot by catching the biggest fish. It ended up being the second biggest. I remember how happy he was, bragging about the fish his baby girl caught. Or maybe he was just happy I was there doing something he loved with him. It was a good day. I wish we'd managed more of them before memories and pictures were all I had left of him.

The man sleeping

upon the bus stop bench

blocking your view

of this month’s

burger ad,

paid for by the fast-food joint

around the corner,

is hungry,

and his name is Bert Huggins,

if you cared to know.

The palms

Of gray clouds

Pushing against

My cedar lined chest

Calming the better

Parts of who I am

Tuna casserole

And good coffee

For breakfast

It truly is

The little things

That keep me

From destroying

What I believe

I think

I have become

No thanks

To you

David Burdett

6/27/2023

Hello, Writers and Dear Readers.

Hope your week has started off metal as possible, or classical as possible, or new wave as possible, or... Look, I couldn't think of a way to start off this post to introduce a 41-second poem on the channel. But we thought it would be cool to change it up once in awhile. Plus, I got this badass new webcam I wanted to test drive. Anyway, here's the link.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYvN5aQGHWw

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team