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With expectant expressions they twirl in place
And look up at us, the senior race;
Despite minders' coo-calls and reprimands,
They bang on the glass with their tiny hands.
"When will it open?" they plead and plead,
All ants in pants and juvenile greed;
They hopscotch and shuffle and jump like toads,
Undiverted by chaperones' sing-along odes.
No toy nor scolding adult can tame them--
They carry on blithely, and who can blame them?
Until the man with the keys appears . . .
Then they scoot inside, for storytime nears.

Reviews

[Brent]

I agree that each progressively younger generation is harder to teach manners and restraint. The image of children itching to get into a store is relatable.

At the same time, I think this intense focus is good. It's so easy for people to lose sight of something that they really, truly want as they get older.

We should have this same desire to obtain something as the children in your poem...albeit without the jumping about like toads.