o’the mornin’

i had a tiny friend

he (sometimes she)

sat on my metal lunchbox

clutching the uprights

of the hinges for the handle

the way i grasped

the ropes of my swing

chattering instructions

and unworldly information

as i trudged to school

i told the cross-walk man

about him/her once

each morning mr. o’reilly

greeted us both

with a hearty top o’the mornin’