When we think of adoption
When we think of adoption,
We seldom see it through the eyes of a child,
Too often blinded by our own egos,
Too often carried away on cloud nine,
Expectations galore,
Plans already in place,
On what will happen at our place,
Gratefulness for our kindness a foregone conclusion.
Too often I see that in those who adopt,
While we have not officially adopted,
As we have been blessed with three children of our own,
But over the years we have had kids around,
Who have decided our place is a good place to visit,
Never in a rush to get out the door.
And having been an Early childhood teacher for thirty years,
I had come to the conclusion that Children adopt us,
And there is no end to their schemes to make us aware of their choice.
My neighbor's two young boys have adopted me,
And I am putty in their hands,
Especially as both Dads are absent without cause,
The youngest sneaks out the door to our place,
So, that he can take me back home as a prize,
Much to the bewilderment of Mum,
The eldest who is seven, in his roundabout way,
Is constantly dropping hints that I should stay the night.
That is something mum would be embarrassed to hear.
I occasionally babysit, toss a ball about with them,
Or take pointers from them on how to,
Avoid obstacles and gain points in video games.
And help out by mowing their lawns for a small payment,
When I am not spending time with my grandson,
And with two more grandsons, identical twin boys,
Due in August to our other daughter?
Not ideal,
And tinged with sadness.
Maybe one day, children will again be a blessing to more men,
So that children can be children again,
And adults can still remember they were once children too.
Copyright ©
David Smith
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