I’m Waiting in A Tiresome Line
Looking down at my shoes
with their fine lace of cool design
(Which are not actually mine, but that’s a matter of another story)
While at the same time
A young and no-doubt-sweet-for-his-mother child
Dressed in cute green overalls,
A cruel spear in his right hand, which I hear is tenderly called ‘magic wand’,
Takes a bite into a sandwich much relished,
Mumbling crumbs and vegetable pieces through
His tirelessly prattling mouth.
A moment later, crumbs and spit are on my shiny shoes.
Trying to wipe them away tangles the mixture deeper in the lace
(not mine, remember?)
On which I decide to chase
The poor mother to a bitter end for why she didn’t mind her beast.
Looking at her face,
Takes my anger off the messy trace.
And I wave off her distressed question if she should pay
For cleaning of the lace,
As I continue waiting in the line
So fine.
(c) 2020 soulmary
Written for the Sunday Whirl #444. There are some great pieces shared there, check them out.
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I loved the picture you painted with your words getting us to feel sorry for her and her wayward child.
KIds can well cause distress. But it is a caring mind coupled with maturity who is always ready to forgive makes life
more interesting and fulfilling. Anger can easily step aside!
Hank
By the time you caught up with the mother, you had to be thinking, glad it’s not my kid!
I really enjoyed this.