Hickety picked a pebble up
and tossed it; made it skip
on the water surface shiny
tripping ripples as it flipped. 

Hickety flicked his wrist again
in mimic of his trick
watching the ripples run away
across the water's slick. 

Hickety kicked at dusty dirt
and cursed his father's grit.
He loathed the tiny family farm
where birth-right forced him work.

Hickety huffed a sickening sigh
and returned to tedious task.
He wearily weeded the pepper patch
just as his father had asked. 

Hickety practically slept as he worked
repeating monotonous movement.
Crickets sang listlessly lulling poor Hickety
deeper in desperate bereavement. 

Finally Hickety stopped in his tracks
unwilling his feet were to move.
He held no surprise in his watering eyes
as he realized what he must do.

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Author guidance for This story

This could be the beginnings of an epic poem... or not.

If you can match the meter and rhyme, feel free.

I may add more later.

updated Jun 24 '09 by redhat