Grown-up – Poem

Little Valentin is seated,

arms folded

mysteriously looking

at the blackboard where

in large white capital

letters

is written:

IMAGINE WHAT YOU WILL DO WHEN YOU GROW UP

 

Silence flows

in the classroom,

the clever heads are thinking

 

One can hear

an aspiring chemist

dreaming of

daring combinations

One can see

a painter

contemplating

pastoral landscapes

A little girl

intends

to dance her way

and receive

flowers on stage

 

Valentin does not know

yet.


He chews

on his wooden pencil

irritated to search

without finding


He stares

at his playmates

bent

over their paper but

he is distracted, and

his thoughts wander

somewhere else

«What does this mean, ‘to grow up’?»


He dares not ask

yet

he would need help


He attempts at communicating

with the juvenile pastry-chef

but

the teacher corrects him:

«No cheating, No talking»


«What do I want to do

when ‘I grow up’

so,

I would like to go on the street

without Daddy

I would like to go to bed late

and read all night

I would like that Mummy lets me eat

my favourite ice-cream

every day

I would like my little sister to stop scribbling

on my drawings.


So,

that must be it

‘to grow up’»


Proud of himself,

he filled the page

and when the bell rang

handed it over


On the playground now

he can hear

the children

comparing their works

and clear words:

doctor, cycling competitor

magician, nurse for horses


Valentin flushes, and

understands


«Then that was it?

I was all wrong…»


Little Valentin,

perhaps you are right

as well

perhaps ‘being a grown-up’ is also

this:

having simple thoughts

wanting ice-creams

dreaming in one’s room

of knights, of Lancelot and Bluebeard…


Little boy

perhaps you are right as well.




Marion Franc

Marion Franc

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on google
Google+
Share on twitter
Twitter

Leave a Comment