Can someone tell me where all the grown-ups went?
There used to be loads of them.
Towering, they were.
Impossibly tall and always knew what to do.
You could ask them anything and they’d have an answer.
And they bought you comics
When you were ill or sad.
Did they all shrink? Did they all go away?
I’m feeling five years old today. I always was.
If I had to get bigger
why didn’t the grown-ups grow too?
Now I don’t know anything and yet I have to do things.
That’s not true. I know lots of stuff about stuff.
How to cook a meal
Take out the bins
Even how to drive and take the cats to see the vet.
And that’s all OK in its place. I can do that.
But there are lots of things
I don’t want to have to do.
Can someone bring at least one grown-up back?
They must be all somewhere else, on an island maybe.
All drinking cups of tea
And shushing cos the news is on.
That’s where they all are, gigantic and loud and comforting.
Maybe one day I’ll get to go there, too. To that island.
They can look after me again.
They can tell me it’s OK.
I will look forward to getting to that version of Heaven.
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