April is National Poetry Month. That’s why I’m recounting my recent trip to Chicago in limerick. Here we go:
We drove to Chicago, Illinois
To see our fine college boy.
We wined and we dined.
“The cold!” we opined.
That wind is the real McCoy.
We spent two nights in Kentucky
Which may strike you as faintly unlucky.
But bourbon for dinner
Is always a winner,
And you’ll feel decidedly plucky.
Wicked-eyed Woman said the sign.
What the hell? It’s time to dine.
Belly up to the bar.
Shepard’s pie and guitar.
Kentucky Irish? It’s genuine.
Through the door ‘tween two bronze lions
You can see art without even tryin’.
Hopper to Albright,
Chagall and Frank Lloyd Wright,
All it’s collections we were eyein’.
We saw our Cloud Gate reflection,
upside down in closer inspection.
It’s a big mirror bean
That has to be seen
When you travel in that direction.
Chicago’s famous gastronomy
Can be both rich and economy.
From pizza to steaks,
We all cleaned our plates.
Now stretch pants is what we’re gonna need.
We shopped the Magnificent Mile
For clothes that are in the high style.
But in the crannies and nooks
We found records and books
For our music- and bibliophile.
The week could not have been greater.
Fun’s a time accelerator.
So with a tear in my eye,
To my son, I said goodbye.
But what I meant was “see you later.”