, , , ,

The tin can Tin Man that hung on our door,

There guarding us all day and night,

He secretly wanted to drop to the floor,

And walk to his heart felt delight,

But the way he was hooked he couldn’t get down,

The wire was wrapped all too tight,

He tried and he tried ’til his smile was a frown,

It’s no use, he thought of the plight,

Weeks by weeks, years by years, there he remained the same height,

Struggling hard not to give in to tears,

But not letting his dream go from sight,

Then late one eve as my family and I slept,

With the moon shining cloudless and bright,

The nail popped loose from where it was kept,

And from the door our can man took flight,

At first he stumbled and then he ran,

The clanging of his metal was quite,

All the neighborhood dogs they barked with a ban,

Giving the tin can Tin Man a good fright,

But it was when he came to a junkyard he stopped,

What is this I now see—-is that right?

And then the wooden fence he climbed up and hopped,

Soon his chest it pounded with might,

You see, in his heart he knew what he saw was his mate,

A female version of a knight,

And from that day forth they followed their fate,

For they had nine little tin cans outright!


by John Patrick Seekamp 2016