From the Notebook....

On the table, is a big, white mound
Of cold, homemade ice cream,
Churning,
turning,
'round
and 'round.

The machine makes a "burring" sound,
Yet the ice cream remains silent,
Churning,
turning,
'round
and 'round.

A sudden cry, clear and loud,
"The ice cream's ready to eat!"
Churning,
turning,
'round
and 'round.

To the machine I once more bound,
And scoop ice cream into my cone.
Churning,
turning,
'round
and 'round.

My ice cream slips to the ground,
I'm left with just a cone!
Churning,
turning,
'round
and 'round.

Then comes Uncle Reedo's hound,
and laps up that which fell.
Churning,
turning,
'round
and 'round.
Copyright/Curious Cognitive Content/July 20th, 2008