I saw a family today, a family of four,
a father, a mother, a lil boy, and his lil red truck.
But my presumptions faded away rather quickly,
much like the boy’s laughter,
as the man pulled him away from the little twig that the he was in a secret dialog with,
taken away to see a burnt monument with no life,
broken buildings that fascinated the tourists.
There was much a story in the boys eager eyes and mumbled words as in those giant walls and old trees. Yet another folktale burnt away in the place.
I was mistaken, it was a family of four,
a man, a woman, a lil boy, and his lil red truck.
The contrast is in that they could be strangers under false pretence and we’d know.
A man who seemed to love filming monuments,
A woman who seemed to love filming herself,
and a lil kid who’s red truck had just joined the secret meeting on the edge of the ledge.
A man, a woman, a lil boy, and his lil red truck.
The place was an old fort, or what was left of it, burnt down a long time ago,
the pamphlet read that a boy of age 10 laid its foundation, a prince,
who died while he was still a boy. Unlike him our lil boy with the red truck was alive, yet I worry that he’ll outlive the boy in him by too many years.
The hypocrisy in the father’s fascination for the place!
Maybe I am mistaken about all this,
maybe they are the perfect parents and I just lacked perspective,
maybe,
Even so I had my lesson learnt,
when you have a kid of your own, you gotta be your lil buddy’s best friend,
a strategic partner in their secret meetings with green twigs and red trucks.