"Baa, baa, baaaaa" bleated Sally. "Life on the Renaud farm is blah, blah, blaaaah," she complained. "Nothing ever changes. Same sheep. Same hill. Same rocks... WHOOPS!"
The stone beneath Sally's
... [+]
Ice cream at bedtime,
Aunt Betty's the best!
She knows in the summer
it's hard to find rest
when faced with hot sheets,
hot pillows, hot bed,
no place cool enough
to lay a hot head.
Instead, we escape,
my aunt grabbing the keys,
and hop in her car
to catch a night breeze.
Next stop: the Drive Thru
where we're chilled to our bones
by soft swirls of winter
in tall dripping cones.
A small secret eaten
beneath the moonlight—
oh, how I love ice cream
on a hot summer's night!
Aunt Betty's the best!
She knows in the summer
it's hard to find rest
when faced with hot sheets,
hot pillows, hot bed,
no place cool enough
to lay a hot head.
Instead, we escape,
my aunt grabbing the keys,
and hop in her car
to catch a night breeze.
Next stop: the Drive Thru
where we're chilled to our bones
by soft swirls of winter
in tall dripping cones.
A small secret eaten
beneath the moonlight—
oh, how I love ice cream
on a hot summer's night!