Point of view, view. – Poem?

It’s simple really.
See, I’ve lived the majority of my life with myself.
So, when someone asks me in earnest, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
As though they would have somehow helped-
I think to myself,
Would you like to know how my breakfast cereal tasted this morning verses yesterday morning?
Or, would you like to know the moment I remember, with absolutely clarity, events that happened a decade ago while coaching baseball concerning a fan spilling ketchup on their blue jeans and missing their sons at bat because they busied themselves with napkins to fix their accidental spillage that could easily haveĀ been avoided by not having put so much ketchup on the end of their hot dog? No. They missed their sons at bat. They missed the hit and they missed the run scored which won the game.
They had things to do.
I wasn’t able to help the child rework the happening to create a better memory of being watched.
It doesn’t work that way.
And I chose freely to not tell how my breakfast tastes on a daily basis because it changes and that’s for me to enjoy. Along with the arrival of the sun and the fact that it comes up every morning slightly differently- even though we live in a world that will try and tell you it’s all been done before.
No. It hasn’t.
So enjoy your questioning questions with a smile and a nod of understanding that not all things will be and not all things will be.

 

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Thanks for reading. I don’t know what this is either.

Matt