Thursday, August 25, 2011

A childhood dream

As he sat beside those pots,
made out of mud and clay,
he seemed to meld right in,
in that earthy array.

Young and strong and eager to help,
he carried and he fetched,
and did exactly as he was bid,
covered  in dusty rusty red.

He seemed so quick on his feet,
and sharp with cost and price.
He seemed to have everything on finger tips,
in dealing with all so wise.

Impressed with his winning ways,
she had got him  books to read,
to replace the ones she'd seen him with,
all tattered and dog eared.

Excited at receiving gifts,
that he had never expected to,
he flipped through them,
putting them away, profusely thanked her too.

Smilingly she asked him if,
he would, a story to her read,
He could not read, he said dismayed,
or else he would have hastily agreed.

At school? she asked,
wondering how he could have missed it out.
He shook his head and said simply,
'Work and earn for family I can't do without.'

To her great surprise, he confessed,
he'd never been inside a school.
The books, he said, were just his dream,
someday he hoped to learn to read up whole.

Learning comes all through life,
but school, friends, teachers;  happy childhood for all.
Losing a childhood dream is sad,
but imagine having no childhood at all!

1 comment:

  1. Yes, we need to be remeinded of such things when we are filled with regret for our childhood dreams


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