Sullen sprinkles rage across the
Little one's mind, coupled and
Doubled among fleeting glimpses
Of responsibility at times

But the train can never un-chug
Itself back on its tracks
And the life worth living is one
Of great achievement and
Humility at the top, always
A sense of the relative
Importance of the word

And careful attention to the
Few facts that present themselves
As offerings before an altar
But are taken as welcome
Friends, worn and tires, who seek only
A fire and a meal to purge the chill from
Their bones, but of course they
Know (perhaps not)
The sun always does
A better job