The Getting of Wisdom

Tales are often told to youngsters by the old
rocking in their chairs, spouting verbal wares
the children gaze with eyes as big as Grandma's pies
they love these tales of old; to hear them grow, unfold!
But sadly once the child develops wit and wile
that innocence and wonder gets buried six feet under
by all they will achieve and empty lies believed
they're too grown up to hear those tales of yesteryear

Too soon they're off to uni, developing 'maturity'
puffed up with pride and glee at all their PhD's
they'll sit in leather chairs with academic wares
replacing miracles, caught up in waxing lyrical
Those vital family ties get lost amongst the lies
they've ended up believing in all of their achieving
they cannot see the cost of youth becoming lost
when their misguided loyalty replaces creativity

Too soon the time arrives when they'll assess their lives
and realisation bites in bitter lonely nights:
With all they have achieved, why are they so bereaved?
Since when did all their learning negate that youthful yearning?

-00-

A wheelchair is his home, he sits there all alone
amidst his genius, was there a clue he missed?
The staff did not suspect he was an intellect
until one Christmas day, when he had passed away ...

... they found the notes he'd penned, right up until the end
but placed them on his chest; a gesture they thought best
so now his childhood wonder is buried six feet under
along with tales of old that never once were told