The Boy Who Do

This little story starts with a young boy’s shirt,
It was clean and white…untainted by the faintest dirt.
He liked his shirt but every day
He watched his friends all go out to play.
He wanted, he wished he could go climb the wall.
Or run in the dirt, or play “slay the Green Grol.”
But as much as he wanted and wished he could go,
He feared that his shirt might lose its bright glow.

So he hung out inside and daintily ate,
The red-rumble berries clean off his plate.
He felt the red berry give a loud squirt
And slowly…looked with terror…
down on his red stained shirt.
“Oh! Oh!” He yelped as he ran round inside.
“My shimmering shirt is crackling red and I haven’t any “Tide”!”
All of a sudden, the front door was thrown wide aside,
And in strode the cunning, the clever uncle Clyde.

“My dearest little boy what new shirt is this here?
I’ve never seen you wear a thing with colors quite so clear.”
“But I stained it!” said the boy; who was really in a fit.
“No matter!” said Clyde, “Now you’re free to go adrift!
Go paint your new shirt with the colors of the earth,
That’s how you really show a man what you’re worth.”
“Real talk” said the boy. “I quite see the crux.
I must forsake the value meal, and find the deluxe.”

And he ran to his friends,
Slayed the Green Grol with them
And in doing so, got some green on his hem.
And they rolled in the dirt, and they climbed the great wall,
And red-brown-and-green were the colors of all.
And by the end of that day, the shirt looked like art.
Thank goodness for uncle for being so smart.
He had finally figured out that art was his part
The day left him happy and it sparkled in his heart.

And so was the boy who finally knew
That he had to create, that he had to be true
To his rondulan self, and be someone new
To like what he did, and do what he do.