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Description
The day had arrived, it was finally here,
That day that arrives only once every year,
Where the world rotates around only you,
When you get to eat cake and receive presents, too.
His excitement had gnawed at him throughout the night,
It had kept him awake until dawn’s early light.
He fervently hoped that his parents had bought
The thing that he asked for, the very thought
Of a puppy of his own sent chills down his spine
And now was his birthday – now it was time.
He hopped out of bed and raced down the stairs,
Down into the kitchen, where, sitting in chairs,
Beamed Mom and Dad, and knowing he’d come,
Dad shifted his glasses to look at his son,
Whose hair was a mess, whose feet were skin-bare,
Whose PJ’s had pictures of different Care-Bears.
His pumpkin-tooth grin complimented his eyes
Which twinkled like stars in the countryside skies.
Dad puffed on his pipe and started to smile
As he gazed on his anxious and impatient child.
With a nod from Mom he walked out of the room
And the little boy knew that the moment was soon.
Any doubts he had left were all put to rest,
When Dad returned with a puppy clutched close to his breast,
A cute little ball of golden-brown fur,
Who meekly yelped, and wiggled and squirmed.
The boy was a statue; he was frozen in shock,
Unable to move or will himself to talk.
Dad stood before him and held out the ball,
“Now son,” said Dad,” You’ve wanted this dog all fall,
But frankly I think you’re a bad little boy
Who back talks his mother, doesn’t clean up his toys,
Who skips all his chores and goes to bed late,
And never eats all the veggies off of his plate.
Take one last good look at cute little ‘Ludlow’,
‘Cause in T-minus 1 he goes out the window.”
Keeping true to his word, Dad grabbed Lud by the feet
And hurled the puppy out onto the street.
It landed unhurt, but didn’t get very far
Before meeting its maker in the form of a car.
Tears brimmed in the boy’s once hopeful blue eyes,
As Dad pointed and laughed at the puppy’s demise.
“However,” mused Mom,” it is your birthday,
So you should have a gift in some sort of way.
It may not be a puppy, but it’s just as good, dear,
Here’s a ham sandwich, try harder next year.”
The boy took the sandwich and stifled a cry,
He despised ham and the bread was all dry.
“It was your own decision,” said Dad,” to be rude,
By the way, you’re adopted, and we don’t love you.”
The boy stood stone silent for a few moments more
Before backing away through the ajar kitchen door
And back he went to his safe, warm bed,
Cocooning himself from his toes to his head
And as he lay there, he did not become daunted
Because next year he’d definitely get what he wanted.

Description
The day had arrived, it was finally here,
That day that arrives only once every year,
Where the world rotates around only you,
When you get to eat cake and receive presents, too.
His excitement had gnawed at him throughout the night,
It had kept him awake until dawn’s early light.
He fervently hoped that his parents had bought
The thing that he asked for, the very thought
Of a puppy of his own sent chills down his spine
And now was his birthday – now it was time.
He hopped out of bed and raced down the stairs,
Down into the kitchen, where, sitting in chairs,
Beamed Mom and Dad, and knowing he’d come,
Dad shifted his glasses to look at his son,
Whose hair was a mess, whose feet were skin-bare,
Whose PJ’s had pictures of different Care-Bears.
His pumpkin-tooth grin complimented his eyes
Which twinkled like stars in the countryside skies.
Dad puffed on his pipe and started to smile
As he gazed on his anxious and impatient child.
With a nod from Mom he walked out of the room
And the little boy knew that the moment was soon.
Any doubts he had left were all put to rest,
When Dad returned with a puppy clutched close to his breast,
A cute little ball of golden-brown fur,
Who meekly yelped, and wiggled and squirmed.
The boy was a statue; he was frozen in shock,
Unable to move or will himself to talk.
Dad stood before him and held out the ball,
“Now son,” said Dad,” You’ve wanted this dog all fall,
But frankly I think you’re a bad little boy
Who back talks his mother, doesn’t clean up his toys,
Who skips all his chores and goes to bed late,
And never eats all the veggies off of his plate.
Take one last good look at cute little ‘Ludlow’,
‘Cause in T-minus 1 he goes out the window.”
Keeping true to his word, Dad grabbed Lud by the feet
And hurled the puppy out onto the street.
It landed unhurt, but didn’t get very far
Before meeting its maker in the form of a car.
Tears brimmed in the boy’s once hopeful blue eyes,
As Dad pointed and laughed at the puppy’s demise.
“However,” mused Mom,” it is your birthday,
So you should have a gift in some sort of way.
It may not be a puppy, but it’s just as good, dear,
Here’s a ham sandwich, try harder next year.”
The boy took the sandwich and stifled a cry,
He despised ham and the bread was all dry.
“It was your own decision,” said Dad,” to be rude,
By the way, you’re adopted, and we don’t love you.”
The boy stood stone silent for a few moments more
Before backing away through the ajar kitchen door
And back he went to his safe, warm bed,
Cocooning himself from his toes to his head
And as he lay there, he did not become daunted
Because next year he’d definitely get what he wanted.