There are no adults here..
Only confused kids.
Children under the delusion that they know what they're doing.
Youngsters playing make-believe in a world they perceive so solidly.
Every one a narrator, a role-player. Everyone..
Leads in our own stories.
Every thing we can imagine, we can be. Everything we are we imagine..
What creations we can dream!
One great, big game of mummies and daddies, shop keepers, teachers,
cops and robbers, mad scientists, inventors, doctors and nurses, and animal healers,
heroes and villains, and rulers, and rock stars,
gourmet mud pie makers;
'anybody I think would be more interesting, more loveable, better than the "real" me'...
A bit of looking, some basic understanding of psychology, and a whole lot of gut-wrenching honesty is required to see that humanity is full of toddlers through tweens:
most of us are prepubescent, so few ever reach mere adolescence.
Billions of babes, tots, small fry, minors, juveniles, and youths.
A whole world bumbling with infants!
Littleuns, in our innocence, taking ourselves so seriously..
In a way, it's kind of tragic.
In a way it's kind of sweet..
Copyright © Sara Jolly | Year Posted 2022
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment