Dear Mrs. Pence
Dear Mrs. Pence was as fat as could be,
When she sat in a chair you never could see
Any lap at all. And her round merry face
Was filled with laugh wrinkles like pretty lace.
She hobbled around with a cane that she said,
Belonged to dear John, before he was dead.
“I’m as poor a church mouse!”, she often would say,
And then she would laugh in a wonderful way.
I would sit there and watch her ripple all over,
She smelled of cough drops and apples and clover.
“Go out in the garden and get me some corn.
We’ll have a nice dinner, as sure as you’re born.
Tomatoes and lettuce and biscuits so high,
And maybe I’ll find us a nice piece of pie.”
You couldn’t say no for she never would hear,
Her joy was in sharing and having folks near.
And she’d hustle around as well as she could,
“My legs are like two old pieces of wood.
Come sit down! We’ll have fun! I love having you here!”
Oh, laughable, lovable Mrs. Pence Dear!
~Dana B. Nelson