There was a young lady named Bright,
Who traveled much faster than light,
She set off one day,
In a relative way,
And arrived the previous night.

I saw a man upon the stair.
I saw him, but he was not there.
I didn't see him again today.
Oh, how I wish he'd go away.

This one was supposedly written by a young girl of around 12 years old   It was my Mom's favorite poem.

I wish I was a little rock a sittin’ on a hill,
Doin’ nothin’ all day long except a-sittin’ still.
I wouldn’t eat, I wouldn’t sleep,
I wouldn’t even wash,
I’d just sit right here a thousand years
and rest myself, by gosh.