My Old Wicker Toy Basket
I have a wicker toy basket, it's old like me.
I've loved it all my life.
My mother bought it, I was but two
For my toys and things, A hideaway.
I loved the smell of willow,
The creaking sound it made,
As I climed inside to play.
It's broken now, here and there
And dusty too.
What about a repair?
But maybe we'll creak and break together,
My companion and me.
Another short poem about basket making The Basket Maker