Help Me Say Thank You

I don’t have this, don’t have that,

I want this toy, including that

Can’t see what I have. I complain to You

Please help me ditch that and say thank you.

I never went hungry, never knew thirst,

Yet often I see what isn’t here. I burst

Out complains, because I refuse to see the clue.

Please teach me gratitude and the words thank you.

Each time I walk from class to class,

I don’t have to look back as I pass.

No harm comes because of You,

Please help me remember to say thank you.

Please help me be like Your man Paul:

Thirst, hunger, danger—he’s seen ‘em all.

Yet he didn’t quit or yell at You,

Instead he knelt and said thank you.

Thinking of Films and Plays

I know a work of Dumas;

I have seen the 1998 film too.

Vicomte de Bragelonne on the

Screen. Five actors, and an actress too.

I have read Eugene O’Neill:

A Moon for the Misbegotten.

Three solid hours mean solid thrill,

Not of action, but thoughts of men.

I reflect on those things now, for

Each, I realize, is a mirror.

As I read and watched, “I hear you,

I said, “I was [or am] in your shoes too.”

Now, I watch the captain of soldiers, and I nod.

Then, I see the Broadway actor, and I nod.

The nod is with understanding, for I too,

Wear what they’ve worn—it’s true.