That day I felt like a V.I.P.
A guest at the Queen's party no less.
I was angry and disappointed when she didn't come.
Fancy not turning up at your own party!
A patient adult then explained
That there were thousands of parties
All over the country to celebrate her Jubilee.
Thus assured that it wasn't that our village hall
Wasn't grand enough for her, I stopped sulking
And fell back into the fun atmosphere
Eating cake until I was sick.
Later that day, a pain worse than my stomach
Clutched my heart and made my eyes sting.
For when the horse and cart took we children
For a ride down past the church,
One of my brothers got left behind.
Sitting high on that cart, I saw him dash back inside,
Crying out for mother and some justice.
In that moment my face stang with guilt
For the crime of enjoying myself while he wept.
And although I wasn't to blame
He made sure I staggered
under the weight of shame he placed on me.
This the first of life's wrestles with my conscience.
Life's bitter lesson of sometimes taking the blame
That is not yours.
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