(no subject)

The quicksand in this country takes five years.
During a spot of trouble I jump in.
No sooner have I done this when appears
A girl with mud or chocolate on her chin.
She has a basketball and we begin
To throw it back and forth. Her sister nears
And calls up to a house. The folks come down,
And others after, till there's half a town.

They put a couch and lamp there. One by one
They sit and read me books or throw the ball.
One arm is stuck but till my term is done
My ears and mouth are free. I love them all.

What brought me they're too shy to ask about,
And I can't bear to say please, help me out.