Folks Don’t Understand Fifteen

 I always knew my folks didn’t understand.

They overlooked my most amazing, music plans

And told me more than not that I didn’t have a chance.

Everything I liked they labeled wrong.

They closed their ears on the first line of my songs.

Kept saying that road was tough and I wouldn’t last long.

They had the nerve to say I couldn’t sing.

To this day I still can feel the vacuum of that sting,

And now I wonder if my creed, “I can’t,” began then, when I was fifteen.

It’s not the creed, my son, that I would choose for you.

Well, that's okay, from fifteen your creed will change a time or two.

But now looking back I see they only meant “follow through.”

And that is all I want to say to you.

It’s not the dreaming part of it that’s wrong.

It’s now I know how truly a dreamless life is long.

I wish that I could loan you now, the words to write your song. 

 I anticipate your maturity like fine wine allowed to breathe.

For now you want to boil water without fire underneath.

You want to believe that blood can come from rocks.

You want to tick your time without the tocks.

You can’t live your dreams without your waking truth.

If I could I’d make your dreams come true for you

But I can’t build a ship to sail with no sailcloth or wood,

Or even sing a song of you better than you could.

What I can do is urge you to keep dreaming big

And when you are my grown up child I know that you can rig

A plane to fly or a boat that’s worthy to sail the open seas

Or take you anywhere anytime, to any dream  you please.

Kathy Adams