Meat Pie


From the most recent file box I’ve been sorting through, I found what might be the very first poem I ever wrote. My 10-year-old handwriting is such that I cannot tell if it is dated March 5 or May 5, 1971.

Poor Peter Cotton Tail
Robbed mother’s garden
He went to county jail
Meat pie for the Warden

Because the date is faded and my penmanship unreadable, I thought maybe I wrote it close to Easter time, but the holiday happened on April 11. Written for publication in our elementary school newsletter, it never made it to print.

Now I get why they refused.

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