The Glass Barn

On a Summer day when I was six, we took a little ride;
To a place they called “The Glass Barn”, on Cincinnati’s northern side!
It was in a very large building, with rows of glass and pottery;
Before we left home, my Father, said these words to me!
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“Larry, don’t touch anything, keep your hands right to yourself”;
“For these things are very breakable, that are stacked on every shelf”!
All the way down I worried, that I would somehow fall and slip;
Break something very fragile, and my Father’s lid would flip!
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We pulled into the parking lot, there it loomed before my eyes;
This very large brick building, with items piled so high!
Every step I took I was so careful, to walk a real straight line;
But a funny thing then happened, and its fault was not even mine!
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My Dad picked up a glass piece, and went to set it gently down;
When it slipped right through his fingers, and crashed onto the ground!
The irony was hysterical, that look on my Father’s face;
I said “Daddy, look what you’ve gone and done, that poor little broken vase”!
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                                      Be very careful
                             Said my Father to his son
                                  Forgetting himself