On the thirty third of Januaugust,
right before Octember,
a strange thing didn't happen
that I always won't remember.
At eleven in the afternoon,
while making midnight brunch,
I poured a glass of sandwiches
and baked a plate of punch.
Then I climbed up on my head to see
the silver sky of green,
and danced around my feet because
I'd turned eleventeen.
A parade began to end
and music started not to play,
as rain came out and snowed all night
that warm and sunny day.
That was how it didn't happen
as I keenly don't remember,
on the thirty third of Januaugust,
right before Octember.
From the book "The Armpit of Doom"
Listen to this poem clicking: Ken Nesbitt´s Poetry4kids.com
