A Puzzlement

A puzzle is a wondrous thing,As tiny bits, together, stringAnd from it, something lovely comes,From pleasant scenes to contests run.
But is there something else aroundThat’s similar—in sight or sound?Where little pieces make a whole,When sorted from the rig-ma-role.
Oh, my word, yes! Just look and see,Small pieces bring big things to be.And these collections of small parts,Are where the big things really start.
I think right off of dogs or cats,Or even chickens, pigs or rats,Each is a sum of tiny bits,From heads to toes from hearts to wits.
The bigger things are just the same,The trees of less (or larger) fame,The mountains with their wondrous towers,That make so great, this world of ours.
I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise,That even going down in size,No matter how minute things get,They’re made of smaller bitsies yet!
To quote Siam’s great king, Monkut,“Tis a puzzlement”. Aptly put.To think that even us and him,Are puzzle pieces, limb to limb.
I know you’ve heard it now, and then‘Someone’s’ a ‘puzzle’. Big amen!But there’s no need to scream and shout,It means they’re hard to figure out.
But . . .Though we’re assembled, more or less,From pieces made and then compressed,There is much more to you and me,Than puzzle pieces that you see.
Cause Monday’s do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we all besoughtTo try to make the week begin,With pleasant thoughts,Perhaps a grin?So all of us, together, weHave crafted poems for you to see.And now you’ve read what we have wrought . . .Did we help?Or did we not?
JennyCharlotteMimiMerry Mae
Next week, it’ll be my first back home,Let’s talk of gnomes. Or combs. Or foam.