When I Was Three

I think of my wooden rocking horse
and all the miles we rode
on trails of the mind.
Trapped in the nursery
before my childhood rhymes
became TV jingles,
I wondered why the blackbirds
were baked in a pie,

and what did Simple Simon
really say to the pie man,
and why is Georgie Porgie
made of pudding and pie?
Mother sang to me,
before we had TV,
for how do you entertain the baby
when you want them to drift off to sleep?

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