“. . . One man in his time plays many parts.”
From birth to death,
he efficiently imparts
In fourteen crisply written
lines the seven phases of man’s life.
About the phase of being a young boy
he writes:
“. . . the school boy,
with his satchel, and shining morning face, creeping like
Snail, unwillingly to school.”
Four centuries later the scene clearly
repeats itself,
as the same young boy
with shining morning face passes by my
home on his way to school
with backpack, instead of satchel in hand.
Will it forever be so?
He wrote it, and thus seems
to have made it so.