Often people say to me "You just won't understand."
"You're way too old," or "Way too young," or "YOU are NOT a man."
I don't know why some people feel they suffer unique pain.
As if they are the only ones who've lost or ceased to gain.
I don't know why they hide their pain and clutch it ever tighter.
It seems to me that all should know - a burden shared gets lighter.
Why some folks even deign to think the pain that's in their heart,
Is all their own, to keep and hoard, they set themselves apart.
Since he runs a pawnshop, I decided to ask a friend of mine to appraise my grandfather's violin. "Old fiddles aren't worth much, I'm afraid," he explained.
Six year old Brandon decided one Saturday morning to fix his parents pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard, and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor. He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten.