Whateveritis

Granny said: Look! It is a Gift, my child.
Having a senior mandate by then, on occasion
To hold forth and pontificate shamelessly;
To pin them down in a corner
Or over the shoulder, en route to the Award ceremony
Give them a mouthful in passing
No apologises
No reservations about preaching, fixing
Or even a suspicion that it is a waste of breath.

After all, what proper Young, if given a chance
Would listen to those cranky Elders
Yakking on and on about when they were smooth and shiny
When the Days were different, longer, brighter….

So these particular ones
Probably ten foot tall by now, with the pretty girls ogling
Or a peachy princess, slayer of hearts, unknowing
Look at grannies – anyone over 30 years for that matter –
As alien life-forms, extinction candidates
Some sort of aberrant phenomena like the weather
That appears now and again, not to be denied, circumvented or directed
Let alone stopped in its course
No messing, when her Muse is on-line, a-live, in-house
O child, slap in your ego’s face, take it or leave it
No matter! It is a Gift.

And…….(definition for imbeciles)……Gifts are the Given!
You didn’t think it up, make it, did you?
It comes pre-packed and coded;
You have no Inventor’s patent, you never paid the price.
No need to smirk nor squirm
But be humbly proud and honour the Giver
-By honouring the Gift.
Pick up that pen, computer chip, shovel
cradle, running shoes - whatever the passion-tools.
Lackadaisy doesn’t do!
It is the sweat and grind into the wee hours, day in, day out
Wearing the fingers and eyeballs to the bone
With focus, application and persistence – that bad word called WERK!
The teeny span for life and breath
In a twinkle gone so lightly
A momentary flash in the cosmic pan;
Not a couch potato, party-ride, tourist trip, your fancy.

Then, just when it was getting vaguely telling
She toddled off on her pestiferous trolley, Lorex-like
And was gone.