Muddy Faces

Muddy faces,
Without traces,
Of who’s hiding under there!

Mother paces,
Not knowing what it encases,
She finds not even a single hair!

Searching Places,
Running mazes,
Only coming up for air!

Her little Aces,
Left shoes and laces,
And now is playing, but where?

She’s looked in vases,
And under cases,
All with considerable care!

Are they running races,
Or baseball bases,
Perhaps they’ve gone to the fair?

Hey! What’s that in muddy places,
Does she see the slightest of traces;
She now can hope, but does she dare?

Yes! Three sets of eyes in muddy places,
That’s what the mud encases
What are you doing under there?

Goodness gracious,
But you are tenacious;
It’s even in your underwear!

Take off your watches,
It’ll take several washes,
Just to get it out of your hair!

(c) Delite Kimball All Rights Reserved

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