My Mum

My mum is the best,

She cooks my favourite meals,

She gives me lots of hugs,

For her I’d do cartwheels.

She does all my washing,

And all my ironing too,

Drives me to footy training,

There’s little I need to do.

She often takes me shopping,

For cloths and shoes and stuff,

I’ve never heard her complain,

Even when things get tough.

She’s a very special person,

Unselfish, loving and kind,

I’m so lucky she’s my mum,

I love her with all my heart and mind.

I want to be a dog,

I don’t want to be a cat,

A rabbit or a hog.

I want to live at my house,

With parents just like me,

Where I’ll be fed and pampered,

And looked after to the tee.

Anzac Day

In two thousand and twenty,

We will celebrate,

Anzac Day a different way,

And we can all participate.

We won’t be going to the shrineBut, in the morning at 5.55,

We’ll observe a minute’s silence,

At the very end of our drive.

We can all stand as a nation,

Honour those who fought the war,

Whilst fighting our own battle,

Against this virus so obscure.

My Hero

My hero is a gentleman.

Named Jimmy Arkell,

Who recently turned 98,

Has many a story to tell.

He was a country boy to start,

And moved into the city,

Where he gave away his heart,

To a girl who was so pretty.

He has survived two wars,

Widowed and lives alone,

Around the corner from a school,

From his very home.

He walks past nearly every day,

The kids all know his name,

They say, “Hello Jimmy”,

And he greets them just the same.

He’s truly an inspiration,

And he still drives his car,

He is vibrant and full of life,

He is a shining star.

Should I ever reach that age,

I wish that I could be,

Half the person that he is,

It’s what I wish for me.

Rescue Dogs

On the radio,

I heard the news today,

There was a rush on dogs,

And for them I do pray.

I pray they have good homes,

With love and stimulation,

Assisting their new owners,

To cope with isolation.

Shelters almost empty,

Which is wonderful I know,

But when this crisis ends,

Will it still be so?

There’s a question I ponder,

“Which is really true?”

Between the two of them,

“Who’s actually rescuing who?”.

My Best Friend.

My best friend,

Has four paws,

He loves me heaps,

He has no claws.

He’s always there,

Right by my side,

Head on lap,

I’m full of pride.

He loves me,

Unconditionally,

I look at him,

And what I see,

Are loving eyes,

A wagging tail,

He’s my true friend,

And cannot fail.

Little Hands

Little hands,

Go everywhere,

From patting dogs,

To combing hair.

They draw and paint,

Or play with dolls,

Or little cars,

Or basket balls.

They hold ice-cream,

And lots of fruit,

Touch door knobs,

And soil to boot.

So little hands,

Need lots of care,

Plenty of washing,

So bad things aren’t shared

The sweetest thing,

I’ve ever known,

Is not wrapped in paper,

But chews a bone.

It doesn’t rot teeth,

But loves to lick,

Loves to play,

With balls or stick.

Not brightly coloured,

Nor sticky or gooey,

It’s soft and cuddly,

Not hard or chewy.

It gives us pleasure,

Over time,

Not just a mouthful,

A moment sublime.

It is a friend,

In many ways,

Not just a binge,

On upset days.

The sweetest thing,

Isn’t a chocolate log,

But I think we all know,

It is the humble dog.

Our hearts were nearly broken,

Tears welled in our eyes,

As bush and houses burned,

And we all realised,

That the fires were taking hold,

And there was no relief,

The devastation continued,

Almost beyond belief.

Fire-fighters fought on,

As smoke filled the air,

Townships evacuated,

Devastation everywhere.

And in the aftermath,

When things had settled down,

Stock was taken of the loss,

Its magnitude profound.

But out of everything bad,

Comes something good,

And from these fires,

Came brotherhood.

Australians united,

With people from afar,

And many gave generously,

To help relieve the scars