from A CHILD’S GARDEN OF ROBOTS
An Optimal Morning
A robot with a blinking head
Stood beside my trundle bed
Took my vital signs and said
“Normal tolerances read.”
The Little Friend
I have a metal playmate Papa made when I took ill
He fetches things I cannot reach, and brings my morning pill
He tells me what’s on telly, and he wheels me on the green,
And he helps me keep my dining room and playroom good and clean.
When he stands right beside me, he comes just up to my chin,
But he can touch the ceiling when he squeezes himself thin
And he can lift my bed up just by spreading out quite squat
And he can make me go to bed, if I want to or not!
One morning, I woke up before the clock was telling five
And saw him there beside me, very still, his eyes alive.
He tracked each movement that I made, and hummed and clicked inside,
I asked if all was well. "Oh yes," my metal friend replied.
My metal playmate’s my best friend. He's with me every day
He's stood by me, although my other friends have gone away.
My life would be so dull without the truest friend I've seen.
And Papa says he’ll make a girl for me when I’m thirteen!
The Traffic Copper
The robot on the street tells all the autos where to go
And tickets robot cars who drive too quickly or too slow.
It’s terribly observant, and its eyes don’t miss a thing;
Its moves are like a dance so quick it makes you want to sing.
When I start walking 'cross the street, it holds its hand up high
To signal all the robot cars to part and let me by
But if I ask “How do you do?” it never answers back
But gives a friendly little wave to keep me on my track.
I sometimes stand and watch it from the bus stop’s comfy bench.
It’s never tired or angry, and it has no thirst to quench.
It does its job all day without complaining of sore feet.
Why can’t we all be like the shiny robot on the street?