Mother Goose

One two buckle my shoe…Hey! I’m talking to you. You’ll never get this if your eyes
Keep wandering. It breaks my heart
To tell you this kid, but you are old enough to do it right
Here, make the bunny ears, watch me first, now it’s your turn
No, your bunny’s ears are not broken
Come on. OK, I’ll do it for you this time. We certainly don’t want you to trip and fall

Remember? Last time our two little monkeys were jumping on the bed? One will fall
Of course, and though the swelling will be impressive and the eyes
Will blacken (purple, really and quite shiny), this time at least nothing is broken
Not even my resolve, though next time I will ignore my softening heart
Which said, come on, let them enjoy a quick jump. Look! Let’s watch my hair turn
Gray. Tell me there’s a lesson in here somewhere, right?

I wonder if Humpty Dumpty’s mother ever got it right
Or does she still blame herself for that dreadful fall
As I do. All I did, I swear, was to turn
My head for a second. ONE second, or maybe it was two. Anyway, I averted my eyes
As I’m sure even Mama Goose must have done from time to time. My heart
Goes out to that old woman in the shoe: so many children, so many bones to be broken

What about Jack and Jill? Was their mother ever the same once his crown was broken?
Did she question that choice, sending such young kids up the hill? Was it the right
Thing, or were they too small to haul water? What did we used to say? Cross my heart
Hope to die (just don’t let it be her, and don’t let it be from a fall
Like this, please god) Stick a needle in my eyes
There, will that protect me? Keep me safe for a while, at least until I learn to turn

From such dark thoughts. Such crazy thoughts. I’ll ignore them, turn
The page. Yes, that’s better. Here are three little kittens. They’ve no mittens, but no broken
Bones either. But wait, look closely. Aren’t their yellow eyes
A bit haughty for such young kittens? I will get some time, right?
Time before the eye rolling starts and after I put these fears of her next fall
To rest? Some time before Georgie Porgie starts kissing her and my heart

Goes out to hers. For surely watching some punk-ass boy break her heart
Will do more damage to mine, and I’ll be too old, even older by then. Before I turn
Around she’ll be sixteen going on seventeen, while as leaves change this fall
She’s four…going on seventeen. Just four, and I’m still able to work magic on broken
Hearts and broken egos. Does the itsy bitsy spider ever get it right
Trekking up that damned spout over and over. Or do we learn simply to avert our eyes

To shield ourselves from the inevitable fall? Forget it, we can’t protect our heart
Any more than we can cover our eyes. They will change, grow wiser. Turn
From children fragile and sometimes broken. That is, if we ever manage to get it right.