Happy Birthday to my 5 year old Dawson. This poem was written by a friend 5 years ago. I forgot all about it until he reminded me of it tonight.
Forge
Half moon shines to the west of the trees
As she makes her way down, comes a cool summer breeze
Off the Mendon Peak of the Wellsville Range
Where there still banks snow, and that’s kinda strange
For the third of July, okay, now it’s the fourth,
But that’s how it was on the night you came forth.
And the name they picked, kinda after your dad
Whose name is Dave…, Dawson’s the best they had
And for the middle, there was Gordon or George
For the two grandpa’s of the family forge.
“Why not just make it “G”, like our president “W”?
Let it stand for both, then no one can trouble you.”
But if you want a real “handle”, by which no one else go’,
Make it something RICH, like
Dawson Lonny Low.
Lonn(y) R. Kirk
