Thoughts and Poems are the Same Thing

for dad

Sprouting up from the earth,

Small, green, and alive,

Stretching towards the sun with mirth,

Doing the growing-up-jive

When the rain refuses to fall

He's there with his garden hose

Taking care of them, each and all

Until summer comes to a close

Out of the garden now they go

Off into the world, far and wide

The wind carries them to and fro

Until once again they collide

Back to the garden, familiar soil

After a year of adventure and toil. 

A Limerick

He tries his best to make me snort

Always ready with a silly retort

A pun battle ensues

Witticism spews

Wordplay really is quite a sport.