:) Punk Kid As Future Door Assassin Poem by Bill Grace

With age sometimes comes an appreciation for beauty
So I feel free to grieve for my neighbor's door
That was assassinated by a wanton kid with drooping drawers
Who cared nothing about the beauty of cut and fashioned glass
But saw the door only as impediment to unbidden entry.
Shattered, I doubt our culdesac
Will ever see such beauty in a door again
For surely that youth's marauding was a sin.

My father had a glass door though not as fine
Which closed with youthful petulance brought in kind
A consequence that made me think before next time
With impulse rash - and youthful - and to be completely truthful
I see Dad's sterness as necessity now
And understand why that hard closing almost made him have a cow.