~* A Child's Exercise *~

All eyes are on him, curious and watchful
He scans the paper, confusion apparent
Coaxing, cajoling, all convene upon him
Hopeful he is that he's gotten it right
Hopeful that he's escaped Mother's frowning glare
That signifies he's done it wrong
He hesitates, not understanding
Petulant, pensive, what a pointless exercise!
Mother stands at his back, correcting him
His hand fumbles with the pen
A spark! he comprehends
An exclamation escapes
Quickly he finishes
Sits back with arms crossed
Watching as his work is corrected
Errors pointed out, he hums affirmatively
Mother exhorts him to be neat
But relief floods his tired mien
He fidgets, anxious to return home
But lo! another exercise
We hope for traces of yesterday in his work
As he composes
We do not understand
He picks up the pen again
Lord, how long this affliction!
With furrowed brow and hand on forehead
How difficult this is! he says
We feel it as well
Flashes of memory in his composition
Before tragedy struck
Accursed explosion in his brain
Awkward movement, addled speech
But God-willing, it will be soon
Please God let it be soon
For my sharp-minded (and occasionally, -tongued)
Father to return.