A child when with fewer answers I had,
And more of question on my mind's grey plates,
Mysteries multiplied like a wild fad,
Tell Me Why and How my more loyal mates.
Teenager when, a defiant one still,
A counter question I soon learnt to add,
‘Why, tell me' was added on to my pad,
And handy nigh with my elders to deal!
Adult, the ball when landed in my court,
‘O why me', a die-hard trait came to be—
A conception I had to soon abort,
But not still this wonder seed: ‘why not me'.
I hope this tree takes roots, a solid stem,
Hope, branches spread and prosper—each of them.
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Sonnets | 10.07.2017 |
Why it's not me, why it's someone else, a child thinks but he is to wait for his maturity to have a reply. A philosophic thought so nicely presented in a lovely poem.
You're right, as knowledge is added, innocence is lost. But with growing comes wisdom as maturity and power of reflection is developed. Thank you Akhtar Jawad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
With my elders to see. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Sharing of course, but it is because there are readers like you that read. Thank you Edward Louis