Once upon a time in America, a father gave a gift to his young boy. The child had hoped for a gun, instead it was a globe. “What is it, Daddy?” the boy asked? “It is the world, my son.”
The boy sat on the floor spinning it `round and `round, watching as the oceans and land blurred into one. Soon the boy grew tired of spinning his new gift and asked, “Where is America, Daddy?”
“There is America.” he did say.
“What about Vietnam, Daddy?”
“There will be plenty of time for learning, now go outside and play.”
Time began to pass by quickly and with each passing year the boy would ask his father, “Where is Vietnam, Daddy?” and each time the father would say, “There will be plenty of time for learning. Now go outside and play.”
Then time lunged forth so fast that the boy was a soldier heading for a war in Iraq. He stood now before his own young son, “This is what my Daddy gave me when I had just turned five.”
“What is it?”
“It is the world, my son.”
“Where is America, Daddy?”
“There’s America.” he said, putting his finger through the sky.
“What about Iraq, Daddy?”
“There’ll be plenty of time for learning, son.
Now give Daddy a kiss goodbye.”
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
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