Class
I’m too old to learn through play.
If only I’d tried to make friends as a kid.
Which I thought was a waste of time.
Now I am in this class.
Drilling it into my head.
Being lectured…
When it could have been so easy.
When it could have been so fun.
Now I am forced to explore that devastation.
That I denied when I was first diagnosed.
In this class I thought I was too good for.
Feeling haunted trying to imagine the kindness I could have learned to share.
The kindness I could have learned to see in others.
Like passing a ball back and forth.
Like learning to share for the first time.
But it’s too late to play those silly games…
Now I’m staring out the window in this boring class.
Wishing I could go back to an easier time.
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