I recently signed up with SiteMeter, so now I can see how many (how few) people read my blog each day. It reminds me of when I was a kid and I used to dream of putting a message in a bottle and floating it off to a distant land. Now my dream has come true and I can send messages to the other side of the world, to people I don't know, it's really cool.
One of my regular readers will never be measured by SiteMeter--that's my mom, who reads an ink-on-paper version after my dad prints it out for her at the local library. After she read the Winnie the Pooh entry of a few days ago, she wrote me a letter and said it reminded her of one of her favorite "sad" poems, written by Eugene Field. She wrote it out for me, and here it is:
Little Boy Blue
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.
"Now, don't you go till I come," he said
"And don't you make any noise!"
And toddling off to his trundle-bed,
He dreamt of his pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue--
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!
Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.