Running around with his friends,
The little boy had a huge smile on,
Laughing, he chased them,
Until he tripped and his hands hit a stone.
Remaining still lying on the ground,
His big eyes are now crunched tight,
As tears threaten and the dams break,
And he wails in pain all right.
Comes running his father,
Picking him up off the ground,
And he points at the guilty stone,
At which his father spins him around,
Having seen his hero throw the guilty accused away.
Comes back that laughter,
The tears seem to have dried away,
And the chase begins anew after.
Here I sit on the park bench,
Watching this little exchange,
Smiling, as I remember my own childhood.
In spite of generation gap, there is no change.