Children at Play
By John Herlihy

The day was cloudy, gray;
It was really an awful day.
Clouds threatening overhead.
They should go indoors to play instead;
“I don’t want to play the thief,” one said.
“Flying and falling like an autumn leaf.”
“You can be a great big liar,” another said.
“Burning brightly like a winter fire.”
“I want to be the great pretender,” a third said.
“Or make money from the poor as money lender.”

Someone said with bravado:
“I would like to be the great Houdini, escape
“From a locked trunk like an Oriental genie.”
Another said with hesitation:
“I think I want to be a captain on the police force.”
“No, you don’t,” his friend said, “You might get divorced.”
One last voice piped up:
“I want to be a poor beggar, wearing tattered robes,
Wandering on the outskirts of town on the back roads.”

The other kids looked at him as if he were mad.
Then they looked at each other as if they had been had.
They sat around on the damp grass like fretful pups,
Kicking their heels in the ground, making jagged ruts.
Finally, the Teddy, tucked between two boys, said:
“Let’s stop this foolish game, wishing to be grown-ups.”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” said the wise old bear.
“You don’t want to know,” he added, with an air of despair.