Death
In the
late late late
Evening
A boy leans
Over his gerbil cage
Knowing he should
Have fed them
Much, much, much
Earlier
Silently grieving
Over poor Bobby
The other one
Will now be
All alone with
No one to
Play with
The boy does
Not know
What to do
He leaves the cage
The bowl is still empty
In the
late late late
Evening
A boy leans
Over his gerbil cage
Knowing he should
Have fed them
Much, much, much
Earlier
Silently grieving
Over poor Bobby
The other one
Will now be
All alone with
No one to
Play with
The boy does
Not know
What to do
He leaves the cage
The bowl is still empty
Yesterday, that poem (which is taped to the wall by the Matronly desk) caught Stryker's more mature, wizened eye.
He said: "That's really disturbing but in a sort of smart way."
Matron: "Yes."
Stryker: "I really wrote that?"
Matron: "Yup."
Stryker: "You know your friend? The mom whose son just killed himself?"
Matron: Silence, because speech is snatched from her, just like that.
Stryker: "I bet she feels like that gerbil left behind. Now she has her own choice to make, right?"
Matron: "Right."
Stryker: "I hope she can fill her own bowl again. But it's going to be hard."
Generally, the Matron sees a colloquialism and takes an instant U turn away. But sometimes? From the mouth of babes. . .
17 comments:
Sweet smart Stryker.
May the bowl be filled again.
Wow. That is some kid, right there.
Stryker impresses me.
Oh my.
Has Stryker heard of the concept of the "begging bowl" or is he just that smart?
I am here to tell you: he is just that smart. He's alarming.
You need never worry about Stryker taking care of himself again. He is wise beyond his years. He is wise beyond my years. I love that kid!!!
I really, really want to be able to look forward 10 or 20 years and see what Stryker is doing. He is amazing.
Stryker is freakingly bright. I mean that in a good way.
Feeling tears...oh, my. You have raised a very thoughtful child.
That's a wise, wise boy.
I wonder how the Matron can stand it, for surely she has wondered if her boy is smarter than herself.
Wait, I'm missing something - "begging bowl"? What's that?
Wow! Amazing poem and such insight..your boy.
So, is this what happens during all the cold weather in Minnesota? Everyone produces brilliant work? Well, at least in the Matron's family.
Did he join Mensa when we was like, 4 months old, or what? Sharp doesn't begin to describe.
That poem gives me chills. In a good way.
Wow. Just wow.
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