I Aimed For Him
¶ 1
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I aimed for him, I swear I did,
I aimed to hit that pesky kid
Who tried to crawl along the bar,
But sadly didn’t get that far.
And I, a livid five year old,
Felt my blood run hot and cold
And, ball placed firmly on the spot,
I paused before I took my shot,
While Dad, in goal, pulled silly faces
On a pure “distraction” basis.
¶ 2
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The kid had slowly scaled the post
And now was urgently engrossed
In crawling sideways ‘cross the bar,
But sadly didn’t get that far.
I aimed for him, I swear I did,
I aimed to hit that pesky kid.
But no-one was more shocked than I
To see my penno soar up high
And hit the young brat on the face,
Effecting his sad fall from grace.
¶ 3
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Around the metal pole he swung,
Till he by hands and ankles hung,
And then, without a single sound,
He dropped eight feet onto the ground.
The strident howls of anguish had
Not much effect on my old Dad,
Who, casually and unconcerned,
Kicked the ball to me and turned,
And told him not to scream and shout
Or there’d be more to cry about.
And thus our fluent mountaineer
Did hop up fast and disappear.
¶ 4
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Walking home again that night
Upon that summer’s evening bright,
I felt I must confess to Dad
The angry feelings I had had.
“I aimed for him, I swear I did,
I aimed to hit that pesky kid.”
But Dad just laughed and shook his head
“Of course! Of course you did!” he said.
But by his sarky tone, I knew
He didn’t believe it to be true.
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