Duck and Cover

It seems strange that one would wax nostalgic
For a signal of impending doom -
But few things more than the air raid siren
Conjure memories of my old classroom.

The siren would sound - we all would scurry
To slide off our seats and crouch on the floor.
We all knew the drill for duck and cover
Should "The Bomb" drop and our school be no more.

So long as we knelt and covered our heads,
Our desks, strong and sturdy, would save our lives.
No bomb blast or fallout dared harm the child
Who followed directions - who ducked to hide.

The Cold War claimed too many victims -
Suspicions and hatred took too high a toll,
But under our desks we stayed protected,
For no one had yet our innocence stole.



Sailing Ships

The bathroom next to our kitchen was cramped -
A bucket and mop leaned against one wall.
Just outside the door stood the garbage can -
Nothing grand intended for this room at all.

Yet this is the place where I'd go running
To play with the most ultimate prize -
A submarine fueled by baking powder -
The very best premium ever devised.

It worked without windup or batteries,
Without one wire or electrical power.
It submerged, surfaced and circled the sink
Just by adding my mom's baking powder.

Who knew a cereal box could yield
Pure magic in free plastic toy?
Or that our sink could become an ocean
Where I would spend hours of unbounded joy.