Sunday, August 16, 2015

THE WIZARD AND THE BOY

I wroted a poem. Here 'tis:



The wizard just wanted to be left alone.

He wanted some quiet and peace.

So, he built him a cottage way out in the woods

With nothing around him but trees.

He couldn’t stand noise, so he hid in the wood

So far from the maddening crowd.

No people to bug him, no neighbors to pry,

And nothing was ever too loud.

The wizard lived thus for a year and a day

When he heard, much to his great surprise,

The whimpering, sniveling, miserable sound

Of a small child’s pitiful cries.

He followed the sound to the brook where he got

All his water he needed at home,

And that’s where he found him, the sad little boy

Who was sobbing there all on his own.

Why was he crying? I really don’t know

And history doesn’t relate.

Sufficed to say he was really quite sad

And was mourning his unhappy state.

The wizard, for his part, cared not for the whys

Nor the withertos, wherefores and coulds.

All the he knew was the boy was too loud

And he wanted him out of his woods.

“Look here, little kid,” the wizard proclaimed,

“You are certainly not welcome here!

“So hush up your crying and be on your way!

“Well, what’s wrong? Am I not being clear?”

The boy did not move, he just sat there and sobbed

And ignored all the wizard’s demands.

But you know how it is when you’re little and sad

And nobody quite understands.

The sorcerer’s anger had started to grow

As the young boy continued to weep.

If this carries on, thought the grumpy old man,

I never will get any sleep.

“I will warn you once more, you impertinent youth,

“To get out of my neighborhood now

Or else I will stop you from crying myself!”

Said the wizard, uncertain of how.

The boy tried his best to clam up then and there

And this terrible fate to escape.

When he found he could not, then the wizard said, “Fine!

“Then I’ll crush you just like you’re a grape!”

So he stretched out his arms and encircled the boy

And ‘twas then, with a furious frown,

That he squoze and he squoze (fairly hard, as it goes)

The small boy who refused to pipe down.

He squoze the small kid just as hard as he could.

“This,” he thought, “will soon stop this boy’s cries.

“I’ll squeeze him so tight that he can’t even breathe!”

But the wizard was in for surprise.

Cuz the boy wasn’t hurt by the old wizard’s squeeze

And when the old man let himn loose,

He discovered his sadness had been squoze away

Like an orange is drained of its juice.

The boy was so happy he smiled ear to ear

And, much to the wizard’s chagrin,

He grabbed the old wizard and started to squeeze,

Just the way the old man had for him.

At first he was angry, this magical coot,

To be squoze in this way by the boy.

But soon all his anger had been squoze away

In its place there was nothing but joy.

The old man and the boy had discovered this day,

Accidentally, as often is true,

That when people are squoze, all the sadness inside

Goes away, all the misery too.

The boy went on home and whenever he saw

A friend or a relative cry,

He would squeeze him real tight and as sure as can be,

Away all their sadness would fly.

And as for the wizard? He left those dark woods

And instead bought a house in the town.

There he made lots of friends who would happily squeeze

Him whenever he felt a bit down.

 

And that’s why, today, when you feel in the dumps

And you’re lower than dirt neath a rug,

Somebody who loves you will squeeze you real tight…

Although, these days, we call that a “hug.”

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