see. That is me and me and me. That you are a fully grown Boy.
Clumsily Adept, skillyfuly inept, artyfully kept
I am grown, boy.
Taking care of myself, being like a little elf, sometimes on task
other times at the end of a branch; hanging in motion, listening for the commotion.
I am grown, boy.
Six foot tall and a hundred pounds the undisputed King of what can I say. Belly and breast man for the rest of his days?
Exercising his right to exercise on a daily basis by eating chocolate in activity osmosis. Well, every fit person eats chocolate, right? Ooer, that’s logic, I learnt that reading a book because I’m a bit grown-up right?
I am grown, boy.
Clothes that squeak fit. Shoes that move me. Did you like that play on words there Move me like feet? Geddit? By the foot? Oh, I give up.
I am grown, boy
With internet account. And a bill which I pay every month. Duh! Someone’s listening in but I don’t care. You can find them kind everywhere.
I am grown, boy.
I have dead relatives some of which I called a friend. And without them my life I do have to mend.
I am grown, boy
With an independent spirit. I choose my own rhyme and reason and go through with it.
I am grown, boy
I choose where to go. Tomorrow I will go … Insert destination there. This poem has lost its way but that’s OK because I have grown boy and have the power to right my wrongs and sing my own song of freedom, loss, wanting and hoping playfully joking that’s it’s OK because I am grown, boy.
I am grown, boy.
I have groaned and been blessed I have touched a girls chest. I have found mystery in solidarity and aggression in charm, freedom in chains and calm in alarms. I am grown, boy.
Documents, and digital signatures, contracts and solicitors, driving test and contract hire I have been through the mire of society and what can be and found it wanting. Oh, what was the point? Now I am grown. I can sing on my own and make words into sentences bless Him
I am a grown, boy.
…tbc
A Watkins Nov. 2017
