Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Hum (06/06/13)
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TITLE: Hummin' Hymns | Previous Challenge Entry
By Kenn Allan
06/13/13 -
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
The morning broke as I awoke
To face another day;
The minutes passed and clocks ran fast
To steal my time away.
Most days I raise my voice in praise
To fortify my soul,
But nearly eight and running late
Took that from my control.
Amid the crunch to pack a lunch
And brush my daughter's hair,
My lips broke free in melody
And hummed a little prayer…
Hmm-mm hmm hmm mm-mm,
Hm-mm hmm-mm hmm-mm,
Hmm-mmm hmm hmm hm-mm,
Hmm-mm hmm-mm hmm-mm.
Despite the fuss, she caught the bus,
So to my desk I strayed
Because I knew the bills were due,
Demanding to be paid.
Tucked in a spot I'd long forgot,
An invitation found―
A party for that boy next door
My daughter hangs around.
I checked the date. Oh dear, too late!
It's after school today!
No dress to wear or gift to bear…
My heart sank in dismay.
Hmm-mm hmm hmm mm-mm,
Hm-mm hmm-mm hmm-mm,
Hmm-mmm hmm hmm hm-mm,
Hmm-mm hmm-mm hmm-mm.
Her party dress, a wrinkled mess,
I found behind her door
Right where she throws the folded clothes
I know I've washed before.
Still in the box beneath some socks
I spied the robot toy
She'd tossed away and wouldn't play,
"Because it's for a boy."
With gift and dress, I decompress,
And soon they're washed or wrapped,
So next I look for what to cook…
Or something to adapt.
No food sufficed. All old or iced!
Not one thing to prepare!
I felt my grip on coolness slip
To find my cupboard bare.
Hmm-mm hmm hmm mm-mm,
Hm-mm hmm-mm hmm-mm,
Hmm-mmm hmm hmm hm-mm,
Hmm-mm hmm-mm hmm-mm.
The doorbell rings. My neighbor brings
A pot of Irish stew―
"A gift, as such. I made too much,
And somehow thought of you."
With daughter fed, she's off to bed,
A happy girl, it seems―
Her social act is still intact,
Insuring pleasant dreams.
At last I raised my voice in praise
As I fell into bed
To God, who cares and hears my prayers
No matter how they're said.
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