GROWING UP

You want that flower
perched high on a tree
You jump, but can’t quite reach.
Your father swoops you up
And holds you high as
you tilt forward,
grasp the stem,
And it’s in your curled fist.

Ma, you say, look what I got.
And present it to her
Like all your choicest things
And your mother places it
In a bowl of water
With a smile divine.

No morals taught..
Flowers belong to trees.
You imbibe that anyway
As life holds your hand,
Your teacher for free

You never ask your father to
Reach for the stars
And pluck them for you
for logic is logic
And reason is reason.

Today then why do you
Wish to catch a star
You cannot reach,
But only watch from afar?
What happened to the logic
You had as a child?
As you grew…
Reason died?

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