no, kid.
to childhood, don’t bid
for i
as an adult
says
our world’s
a maze—
decaying
garden
of forgotten
and lost Daisies
and rotting,
wandering
orchid.
no, kid.
be hasty not
to inevitable aftermath;
drew from decisions
with no place
for regrets,
no taste
for success.
for kid,
it ain’t about
flowers that sprout
nor bubbles
and babbles,
and flying kites
to chase
or some glasses
to cheers.
for kid,
this world
is a broad road
of not enough
lanes—
filled of no field,
build with no brains.
this world
is a horde
of those with
only one day
at most;
simply no April and May;
no vacation—
the way
there is no
Christmas celebration.
so, now, kid.
enjoy
being a seed.
grow
bountifully,
may then be thee
a triumphant tree.
—
A Poem To Hasty Kids
