(This poem was written when one of my co-workers fell while carrying a large bowl of ice. We don't have an icemaker in our office fridge, so Susan usually goes to other departments and borrows it for us. When they have meetings(and food) in the classroom across the hall, we often get the leftovers - food and ice! Explanations: Bev - our supervisor, the "hill" - where our office is located, Gastro - our department. Now that I've taken so long to tell told you what this poem is about, you don't have time to read it, do you?! Enjoy!)

Ode to Susan

or

What In The World Is She Doing On The Floor?!

 
She was full of spunk and vigor
Early Friday, on the hill.
"We have leftovers," Bev was cheering,
"Come on and get your fill!"
 
So Sue said, "Lead the way, girl!"
"I'm there to help the cause.
Let's see what they've got."
She didn't even pause!
 
Like a bolt she rushed on over
To the classroom with empty hands,
To take on the tedious task
Of aiding Gastro and its demands.
 
Yes, she always helps her friends
Whenever they are in need.
Who needed all that ice?
The world it would not feed!
 
So she dashed on over quickly
Bringing the ice across the hall.
She took care of her friends and co-workers,
As usual, she did it all!
 
Making sure our drinks are cold,
Refreshing, and not lukewarm,
Seemed to be that morning's goal-
It was like the rainbow before the storm!
 
But on this fateful Friday
As she took the ice bowl back,
We heard a thundering noise -
Not a "boom" - it was a "SPLAT!"
 
Sue was on the floor now!
Yes, down on her knees.
I thought that she was praying -
But I heard no, "Please, God, Please!"
 
She had tripped over the leg
Of a sofa near the door.
Now the center of attention -
Would she give an encore?
 
She didn't complain or mumble,
No cursing - she is so nice.
Her words in this time of tragedy,
"But I didn't spill the ice!"
 
That's the last we'll see of Susan -
At least until next week
When she arrives in Orthopedics,
Time off we know she'll seek.
 
Because in the line of duty,
And for us and all mankind,
She sacrificed her kneecap
For the poor, the lame, the blind.
 
We must follow in her footsteps
In word, in deed, and form,
We will raise our glasses to Susan
And drink our soda warm!
 
copyright 1999, CATaylor