(March 7th,1941 / Chichester, West Sussex, England)

Crying

Sometimes I don’t understand
Why grownups cry,
Usually, when I do someone
Has been mean to me
But nothing at all seems
To make grownups cry.

For instance, last July, I got lost
In a supermarket.
It was bigger than the one
We usually shopped at
And suddenly I realized I had lost
My father.

I felt how I do when my teacher
Makes me stand up in class
For talking, sort of hot and cold,
So I began talking myself
Out of it, but it didn’t stop me
From bursting into tears.

I peered at all those passing faces
But they looked like ships
Bobbing in a sea of waves, one second
There and the next gone,
I wasn’t very brave you know.

Then a ldy stooped down and her nose
Almost touched mine
As she said she would help me find whoever
It was I had lost.

My hand was sticky from eating candy,
But she put it in hers
So I knew she was a motherly type
And I was glad.

But just then, I saw my Dad
By the Frozen Foods
And rushed to him.

When I looked back to thank her
With a smile,
She was standing in the same place
Watching us,

With tears falling down her face.
I don’t know why.
I wasn’t crying any more.

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Comments (3)

This is such a moving poem, it has the innocence of a child and a hidden message from the world of the grownups.. Well done HBH
Hi Philippa, This brought tears to my eyes. Lovely poem. Descriptive, easy to read and simple. Very well done.
I didn't ever get much out of Latin at school, but when I heard about 'lachrymae rerum' - 'the tears of things' - I knew just what was meant....