Not An Excuse, But... Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

Adults are pleased and proud to see
their child behave so well,
so cute in party dress.
Forgotten are their years
of pain and stress.
It's THEIR shame
when their kid is acting wild.
But cherubs make me nervous.
Little elves are busy testing
in their quest to learn.
It never stops.
Our souls we have to earn.
They're surest
when they are their messy selves.
But party cloths still chafe.
I grew amiss.
My imp-self sought
a witness, yard stick, sage.
In my distress,
my tantrum showed my age.
Why you?
Why then?
No consolation this:
Though I betrayed your trust
and broke your heart,
I did felt safe enough
to fall apart.