Childhood Is The Kingdom Where Nobody Dies

Childhood is not birth to a certain age and at a certain are

The child is lost, and puts away all things.

Childhood is the kingdom were nobody dies

Nobody that does crimes, that is. Old relatives of course

Die, whom one never has seen or has seen for a year,

And they gave on snack in pink-and-green striped bag, or a toy,

And went away, and cannot really be said to have anything at all.

And they die. They lie on the floor and lash their tails,

And their white fur is suddenly all in motion

With fleas that one never knew were there,

gray and brown, knowing all there is to know,

run off into the living world.

You fetch a ball, but it's too much too small, because she won't curl up now:

So you find a bigger box, and put her in the yard, and sing.

But you do not wake up a month from then, two months,

A year from then, two year, in the middle of the night,

And weep, with your thumb in your mouth, ns say Oh, my! Oh, my!

Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies that matters,--babies and teens don’t die.

And if you have said, "For heaven's sake, must you always be kissing a person?"

Or, “I do wish to gracious you'd stop kissing on the window with your teddy bear!"

Tomorrow, or even the day after tomorrow if you're busy having fun'

Is plenty of time to say," I'm in love, Mother."

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died, who neither smile nor sing;

Who do not drink their water, though they always said Uncle Rob was a pig.

Run down into the basement and get me the last jar of peaches; they are not tempted.

Call them; ask them what was it they asked last week

That time to the bishop, or the deacon, or to Mrs. Mason;

They are not taken in.

Look at them, get red in the face, slap, pull them out of their seats by their stiff body and shake them and yell at them;

They are not in charge, they are not even the boss; hey slide into their seats.

Your tea is cold now.

You drink it standing up, and drop the mug.