SHADOW SHOT SUNDAY
Like your name or like it not
This is where you probably got
The name that you're forever stuck with,
Have really good or rotten luck with.
It will haunt you all your days
In so many different ways.
Was it your Mama's invention?
Does it still cause you great tension?
Is it spelt a bit contrary,
Like M.A.I.R.Y for MARY?
Are you ashamed of what you weigh
And yet your name says you are 'Fay'?
Does an ancestor, long gone,
Mean that you're called Algernon?
Did your Dad say 'It's a boy!
Let us call him Fauntleroy!'
Names are things with which we're teased.
Few of us are really pleased
With the name that was donated.
If only parents could have waited!
If only Baby, just pre-font,
'This is the name I want!'
THE ROAD AHEAD
Take a look at a baby's feet,
Fit both inside your hand,
And consider all the miles they'll walk
Across the unknown land.
Imagine step and step and step
Each following the other,
On and on and on and on
As they walk away from Mother.
Those feet will walk on sand-hills,
They'll walk on rocky shores,
On slippery slopes and pavements
And on polished ballroom floors.
Those feet will walk untrammeled
Through the gentle summer grass;
And in heavy boots, maybe, they'll march
As folk see the soldiers pass.
Such fragile things to carry us
On a journey of such length!
Feet! Just bones and skin,
But what enormous strength!
The baby's feet I speak of
May walk till ninety-three!
Then their owners are allowed to say
'My feet are killing me!'