Friday, November 18, 2005

This is Spinal Tap

I remember old days where my mom used to come to tuck me in my bed.
I'd ask for a story and she'd start that old fairy tale about Rip Van Winkle.

Every night I fell asleep hoping that I would wake p next mornig. Cause old Rip's story ends like this:

For Rip Van Winkle was old and gray, and twenty summers had passed away. Yes, twenty winters of snow and frost had he in his mountain slumber lost; Yet his love for stories was all the same, and he often told of the nine-pin game. But the age was getting a little fast-- The Revolution had come and passed, and Young America, gathered about, received his tales with many a doubt, awhile he hobbled about the town;
Then, worn and weary, at last laid down, for his locks were white and his limbs were sore-- And RIP VAN WINKLE will wake no more.

Thanks for those bed time stories you share with us, for I now go to bed, reading your stories and still hoping I'll wake up.