Once From Over The Edge

In Massapequa where we spent

A summer long ago, so young,

Once, half over the side I went,

As by my hands it was I hung

To cry out for my mommy who,

Somewhere in that vicinity,

Seeing her son was out of view,

Began to look for missing me.

While—for my having to cry out

From hanging over that canal—

She’d not have even known about

My being where she couldn’t tell,

Which, goes to show the value of

Your asking for a helping hand

To be helped out—from up above—

In answer to your loud demand.