I AM A PICNIC BASKET

 

I am a picnic basket…yes…you heard me right

I am a picnic basket and, with your permission, this poem…I’m going to write.

I know Jim usually writes here…but I thought it about time…

I give it a go…after all…how hard can it be to rhyme! 

I want to tell my story…of the things I hear and see…

as I’ve spent my life in the mountains carrying picnics for my family.

One of the things I love about my family…I can’t tell you how often they repeat it…is when they pack me up with food…find a spot…unpack me..then sit around and eat it.

Parents and families have filled me…children…grandchildren…friends…I often wonder if they…like me…hope these moments never end.

As I sit and watch the frivolity…I think how lucky can I be…

knowing I’m at the center of it all…knowing there is no picnic without me.

I’m put away at the end of summer…but I am not concerned…

for I anticipate the smiles that greet me when my family returns. 

When you look at me you might not realize I’m not as young as I appear

I’ve been carrying food and fixings for my family for over 30 years.

I’ve been filled with all kinds of food…Oh the places I’ve gone…and the wonders I continue to see…

And I’m not quite sure when I stopped being a picnic basket and became part of the family.

But I am a part of the family…I hope everyone agrees…because that’s what happen when a picnic basket gets infused with memories. 

I guess I’ve made my point…my feelings I’ve tried to convey…

You know everything I want you to know…I’ve said what I came here to say.

Tomorrow I’ll give the pen back to Jim…

but any way you choose to view it

This rhyming thing isn’t hard at all…

even a picnic basket can do it.