Riddles

a poem by Elaine E. Howie

Assured by life and riddled in wealth
Your soul is old or young as mine health
I’ve waited this long to be serenaded by a song so fine
For one so far away in his time
To show me just what dwells in one of fun
A mystery they say of some

You left me in an awe-misdirected shot
But left me at the gate I think not
I can reach high or low and still
Your stifled mind with ease I fill
There would be way more then I could show
As I punch out words on these little keys another blow

But lest you forget who I am
I am a woman mother aunt and gram
Accustomed to life’s questions of joy
And up to the challenge my nimble boy
So dig down in your roots of old
And produce for me golden words from your soul

And dash on with your life and riddles for neither
Will you become a king’s jester either
For in me you have found a just foe
And for that I do thank you so

As my paper goes thin
I leave you with one foot left in
Eeni meinni minnne moe
Raising the question of which one should go

One who can appreciate a good juggling of the words
One who leaves nothing for the sanctity of birds
One who will still remain your friend
But for now one who’s letter must end