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Three stooges - plus one
by Maydora Eberhardt
The stooges that grew up in this house,
might not have survived anywhere else.
Antics they pulled, on occasion suffered 'time-out'.
Stationing in the living room, a manifested error ~ without a doubt.
Silence was heard from the next room, for the most part,
Usual snickers from Richard, until for the door, I must start.
Walking through the living room, noticing the too somber faces.
Not quick to apprise, continuing with fleet paces,
Hearing as I near the front entrance 'Do it again' followed by that giggle!
Christa, my oldest sister entered ~ observing first, the squiggles.
Ketchup and Mustard packets, rubber-band united,
Tossed into the ceiling fan, showered uninvited.
Red and yellow was everywhere,
Walls, furniture, floors and yes, in their hair!
Christa laughed, enunciating her gaiety,
Pleased it wasn't just her house, that sponsored this jocularity!
This crew was my trial and tribulation,
I would trade for nothing, in this nation.
These entertainers, goofballs, constant tryouts, of my endurance,
Filled my life with God's gifts, of the purest.
For only from God could these mischief-makers come?
Teaching me lessons daily, from each and everyone!
Patience and tolerance, sadness and joy,
All the usual emotions taught from little boys!
So quickly, it was done and they left home,
Leaving hollow spaces, for these old bones!
The echoes' and memories, do continue,
Reminding one, of how they warmed the milieu.
Blessings uncountable extending to old age,
Not claiming that it makes one sage!
But loving family commemoration,
For good old-fashion, jubilation!
Written by: Maydora Eberhardt
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