Hail to thee, apostrophe!
Our language’s sign
in written word
that the song is the bird’s
the bark is the tree’s
the waves are the seas’
If it’s one of us, it’s Ellen’s poem
or Solomon’s gold.
If it’s two or more, move that mark to the end.
Trees’ – the foliage of the trees.
Without you, o apostrophe,
we wouldn’t know what belonged to what.
We couldn’t squeeze
words into embrace.
Could not becomes couldn’t.
Should not becomes shouldn’t.
It is become “it’s.”
There is becomes “there’s.”
Such neat compaction
gives our language more traction.
It’s not the Smith’s house
unless he shoes horses, makes ironware and such.
The Smiths’ house belongs
to the Smiths.
Susie lives there, so it’s Susie’s house.
Ellie lives there so it’s Ellie’s house, too,
And John’s as well,
and all together, all the Smiths’ home
as the badgers’ lairs
and the bears’ hibernation as they sleep in their nation
belongs to them.
This ornament,
this beckoning curve,
is no decoration,
but precise declaration.
An exception for that tiny word, “it.”
If it’s bear or cat,
the fur warming each
becomes “its fur.”
And by the way, your house becomes “yours.”
Our house becomes “ours,”
and their house becomes “theirs.”
It’s true that English isn’t simple,
but just absorb this written dimple,
inserting it where it ought to be,
all hail to thee, apostrophe!
The magic of apostrophes
are yes, unique, but not so steep
as you learn to speak
on paper, on keyboards, on signs in the street.
All hail to thee, apostrophe!