The Spelling Award

me — in 3rd grade (maybe it was 4th)

In 3rd grade (maybe it was 4th)
I won the spelling award.
I thought Jack Harvey would win it
When they called my name, I was floored.

Shocked. Delighted. Astounded
That I had scored higher than Jack
But the biggest bombshell of all
Was seeing my dad in the back.

When the principal called out my name,
I was startled and caught by surprise
But I walked to the front of the gym
To collect my certificate prize.

Then I turned to walk back to my seat —
And I was caught by surprise once more.
Could that really be my father
Framed in that far back door?

He had left the hospital early –
The nurses, patients, and staff –
To squeeze in the crowd at the elementary gym
Because his daughter could spell giraffe.

Now beating Jack Harvey was one thing
And ’tis a good thing to know how to spell
But knowing your father is proud of you
Well, that’s just pretty darn swell.


Queen

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My mum and dad, they met the queen.
(Do I sound Bri-ish? sayin’ “mum,” I mean?)
He wore full-dress uniform, squeaky clean.
A dashing couple, right?

Her dress was made of gold lamé –
Her shoes were gold, or so they say –
And with opera gloves, they were on their way
To a very memorable night.

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They saved the invite all this time
(The name’s erased — prevent identity crime)
And that is the end of this pitiful rhyme.
So “Q” is done now. Quite.