'I can do what ever I want,
When ever I want,
How ever many times I want,
Where ever in the world I want,
Why ever I want.'
'And you can't do anything about it.'
'Well, ' I said to him.
His mind made up it seemed.
I watched his face for a clue.
He didn't even give me respect
That was due.
He said again, 'and you can't do
ANYTHING about it'.
And now his face looked angelic.
I wondered what made him the way he was.
I wondered, then I was for words lost.
But then it occurred to me,
How children played in glee,
That whatever this boy thought,
Was lost on me.
Then I realized it was childhood,
In full bloom.
Then I smiled a big smile at him,
Then laughed at him.
When he commenced to quietly,
Play on the playground,
So sweetly and without a sound.
His temper tantrum was over.
Comments about this poem (Boy by Vera Sidhwa )
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