Ira was a pensive boy who loved to speak his mind,

until he thought upon a phrase which faced him in a bind.

“Speak my mind?” What does that mean? Does it mean my brain can talk?

Is it French or Dutch? Does it shout too much? Is its aim to simply mock?

When someone told him, “Hit the road.” He pounded with much vigor-

until one day, a girl did say, “That’s not how you configure.”

“If I tell you, ‘piece of cake’, it means the task is light.

It does not mean I’m famished or am kicking for a bite.

If I proclaim you, ‘had a cow’, you could just have a pet.

But sometimes, the old phrase does mean, “He’s working up a sweat.”

Ira, use the context to deduce what’s being said

or people will begin to think you have a silly head.”

“A silly head!” young Ira said.

“Well, that is just absurd! I don’t look like a walrus or a giant purple bird.

A silly head is ludicrous, for mine is rather normal. If anything, your language is what’s bordering informal.”

“Ira, now get real here!”

“Well, I am. What is your aim?”

“Ira, stop deflecting. No one’s here to blot your blame.

I’ll explain. Go get me chalk and I’ll draw you up a chart.”

To which the boy then hollered, “No, I don’t have time for art!”

“Ira!” steamed the little girl. “Now, whatever I say next, rehearse the said reverse

and you will surely have the text.”

But just before she chose a phrase,

a lonely spider spun

onto Ira’s collar

a convenience in a pun.

“Ira!” piped the little girl, “There’s a cobweb on your tweed!”,

to which the young boy smiled, “Tis only kin to widow’s weed!”

– Amy Struthers