Inch Worm Inch Worm Measuring the miracle...

You know how some things you'll never in a lifetime forget? You might not think of them often but once in a while something will spark that memory with flashbacks and instantly everything will replay through your mind in full detail? I love that.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too.

I haven't read Where the Sidewalk Ends in YEARS. Today I picked it up, dusted it off and began reading. When I got to this poem suddenly in my mind, my mom was reading it. It was in her voice. Then it all came back in one giant storm of memories of how my nightly rituals as a child would go.
My mom would tuck me into bed first, then she would leave to tuck my brother in while my dad would play guitar sitting in that old wooden chair until his hand fell asleep and then my mom would come in and sit with me stroking my hair or rubbing my back singing the same songs dad did. Inch worm was a favorite of mine.
...or, she would read to me. For some reason I remember her reading this poem.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too
Went for a ride in a flying show.
"Hooray!"
"What Fun!"
"It's time we flew!"
Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Too.

Ickle was captain, and Pickle was crew
And Tickle served coffee and mulligan stew
As higher
And higher
And higher they flew,
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.
Over the sun and beyond the blue.
"Hold on!"
"Stay in!"
"I hope we do!"
Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too
Never returned to the world they knew,
And nobody
Knows what's
Happened to
Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too.