I met a man who told me once <br />about …a doctor…..well known… <br />….master of the hospital…. <br />…who delivered most of the… <br />…significant children in this town… <br /> <br />the child who grew into his parent’s wealth, <br />did nothing all his life, had lots of fun. <br />the girl who had it all, but happiness, <br />the dead one with the needle in her arm. <br />the boy who couldn’t explain his feelings, <br />and shot his classmates as a kind of statement. <br />maybe not the poor child who failed at school, <br />but cared enough to become a senator. <br />or the plain girl from basketball, the tall one, <br />who started the hostel for the homeless. <br />no, none of these were significant, <br />not even the doctor. <br /> <br />what was significant, was the way he used the phrase, <br />without thinking, and how it came naturally to him. <br />did he know how much he really said, <br />the significance of it. <br /> <br /> <br />Martin Swords <br />June 2009<br /><br />Martin Swords<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/significant-children-2/
