UARTKNOWN

The Cats in the Cradle and the Silver Spoon

My little boy grew up far, far too soon.

Jack be Nimble and Hickory Dock

If only I could turn back the hands of the clock.

Peg and hammer in small little hands.

Dreams unfulfilled that needed a dads hands.

Dejected little face walks slowly from the door.

Confused little mind, can he trust dad anymore?

Eight to six

Eight to six

Eight to six

Eight to six

Eight to six

And weekends working late.

Torn between two worlds is often the good father’s fate.

My Little Boy blew his sad little horn

My sheep had damaged his fields, my cows had trampled his corn.

Now my Little Georgie Porgie will no longer come out to play

For my dispiriting rain clouds have scared him away.

What could I do to change his perceptions my way?

If I build him up with wood and clay

a simple little rain could wash him away.

If I build him up with brick and mortar

it would hold, but just a little while longer.

If I build him up with iron and steel

a cold little boy would have no appeal.

What could I do to repair his little boy wounds 

What could I do to chase away his hurt and his gloom.

Could I lift his flailing sail and direct his rudder once more

Before his boat set sail and made its way to distant shores.

I was as confused, as any father, that had ever been born.

So I pondered my ways and the work of my hands

For I was master of my fate, I had it all planned.

I could gather two birds in my one hot little hand.

But no, I was caught in my own egregious snare

I thought I could become both tortoise and hare.

I thought I could be both here and there.

But children can tell, when you are not really there.

Oh what madness befell me that I long hoped to conceal

Which lured my hand to the plow to till the fertile field.

Then plant the seed and wait for the yield

Only to neglect the flower that sprang from its heel?

It was me. I disregarded great wisdom and now endure my own sins

For I was once told it was far easier to build strong children

Than repair broken men

Now a chasm exists between me and my son.

I am afraid of what voids will remain when his boyhood is done.

What mercies and virtues will have root in his core.

And which will be left behind when he walks out the door?

There is no longer time to ponder anymore.

For Thursday’s childe once described my little boy blue,

But a man now wears his little boy shoes.

Nursery rhymes have dissipated and no longer ring true

Through the circles of time he has discovered the cow

Does not even know

There is a moon.

But God is a God of mercy and grace

God is a God that forgives man’s mistakes

He restores the lost years the locust consume

To those who cry out and make Him some room

Look to the sky for He is coming soon

But in the meanwhile, He gives us today, and it can’t start too soon!

For my little boy blue is as dear to me as ever could be

And He will be the pillar and strength of his own family

But his life will be common as is common to all men

The workings of life are bound to bend him and break him and call his best hand.

Through the balance of time Mother Goose will also take up residence inside his own precious doors

While the tension of home and work tear at his core

For needs, wants and desires will be juggled in his own conflicted hands

They will demand he disregard his daughters and sons for their own particular plans.

And so it goes, another generation passes from father to son.

More and more day’s will pass that cannot be undone

But I am still Dad, and he is still son 

I may have failed the child but I do not have to fail the man

For I have come to the Lord and learned of His word

I have learned the secret of life, which is that I am third

So I will build him up as I have never before

I will be a mighty oak that shades his front door

And when fortunes are fleeting and fame runs away

I will pray for him daily that he endure… no, overcome… day by day

And if his own dear children are found quietly waiting, I will gently remind

The hands and feet always follow the heart, will and mind

Oh son, sit with your children and read them a book

Of Hansel and Gretel and Old Man Took

Walk with them and talk with them and take them to the park

While you laugh and you smile till long after dark

Let Humpty and Dumpty and all the Brothers Grimm

And Peter and Mary and little Jack in

Remember your youth and remember the times

You own father sat with you and read you the rhymes

Now both of us older and wiser, sit with your dad on Old McDonalds farm

While we let go of the past and all that has harmed

Let us look to the future for what lies ahead

And let forgiveness and love cover our past

Though it was not always seen, it has been my privilege

To laugh with you and love you as father and friend

From the time the cat was in your cradle

Until the beer was in your fridge