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 A FABLE FOLLOWS


Seeing her son’s smile fade and his face turn to bother,
A question she made, then asked, as his loving Mother.
“Why is your face now laid with such a pouting slant?”
Not scant was the answer he did grant, “Because I’m a can’t, 
Wanting to be a can, and can is what I can’t until I’m a man.”

“I can’t reach the bathroom sink when I brush my teeth;
I can’t open the cellar door to see what lies beneath;
Big kids say I can’t play ball because I’m too small;
Adults have such cool books, but I can’t read, just look;
Adults say overly much, ‘don't touch, can’t touch, no to touch’;
Carnival rides have tall lines my head can’t find for a long time;
I can’t use Dad’s tools, not unless he’s there, it’s his rule;
Cabinets and shelves can’t be reached by child-sized selves; and
Better to be a child of elves, ‘cause, Mother, there’s much else,
So many cant’s to rant that telling all, well, I just can’t!”

The boy ran out the door with his pout larger than before.
He broke many fallen sticks, he threw several red bricks,
He kicked lots of rocks and he pulled strings on his socks.
Arriving at the nearby park, he saw a man without a spark.
The elderly man sat on a swing, not at all swinging and	
This same old man stared straight ahead, not at all blinking.
The boy stood, thinking, then speaking, “You don’t seem fine.”
The man spoke, "I'm old with no shine.  I rage at my age.
I've lost my smile.  Joy would place on my face without stall
if all the while I were a child, if I were just, again, boy-small."





... CayCay Jennings
March 2, 2018

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