Monday, May 7, 2012

The Flower Bed


Sort of

Is needed
For the whole
Job to work?"

"I suppose that
You'd need some specs.
Or you'd see specks,
Like some old bat."

"Now that you can see,
In fact you can see
Everything there is
With a great clearness,
What else is needed?"

"Well first off see what's close
At hand, what's the task set
By the morning light rays?"
"How far do you perceive
The problem, or challenge,
That the task poses you?"

"I can see a little boy
Of about three years old; such
A small lad from the green land,
Way up north of the mainland."
"Well what could you discern then
From this little boy of three?"
"He reminds me much of me!"

"Ah good! Your new sight has no spot
Of ink from pen, a clean paper
Of white; all ready to take in
Delightful sounds and words from this
Three year old. Pray, what's he about?"
"He's crying on the pavement, ground
Of the sun; for it blotches out
All else with it's white sheen of gold."

"How could that be, thou eye speckled friend,
When he plays so merrily? Do tend
More towards the point now instead of sight
So that I might understand this plight."
"There is no one around him. Alone
Is he; the middle of the sidewalk
Is a vacant place where he may play
Without concern for his well being.
But perhaps that's not all I'm seeing."

"Seeing isn't everything they do say;
At least they used to in the story book.
When children were put down to bed by Mom,
they'd cuddle up to her; "Another song!"
They'd yell and dance around until they could
Dance no more, or until they were dragged off
Of that cold stone floor, and flung into bed!
But you'd think from what you saw it was not
So much love, but a pain in the neck for
The mother, and a game of chance for kids."

"Yet now that you mention it to me,
I don't see anyone else but him.
He's all alone, not drinking his tea
With anyone; I doubt he can swim,
Else I'd invite him to the pool, so
As to have a friend along for the
Ride. But I don't see anyone there
To take him by the hand. Is it fair
That he should be left alone by us?"

"I don't know whether it is fair,
But perhaps we should let him bear
Out his loneliness until he
Is rejoined by mother and father."
"Yet if that's the case what do you
Say to this idea I have that I have;
Perhaps he's got not a one! No
Parents to be had means no one

To talk to, to take him home,
To put him to bed and sing,
To wash him behind the ears,
To chase away all his fears,
To play hide and seek with him,
To raise him up as parents,
None to show him life, but death..."

"Can't you see anyone
Near his position friend?"
"Not a one. How about
On your end?" "No, not one.
What a pity. Indeed."
"Indeed, what a pity."

"Should we go over
And speak to him now?"
"Why should we? We did
What we came for, saw
What the problem is."

"And what is it?"
"It is this. The
Job that is seen
Is parenting."

"What he needs
Is lost to
Him from weeds



                          The Flower Bed, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012

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