Small Fry
We were small fry in a grown up world,
our dresses starched, our hair tight-curled
on a candlestick by mothers
who scrubbed the faces of small brothers
with fingers they had spit upon
to purge the dirt they’d lit upon.
We had no choice in any of this.
Nor in the neighbor lady’s kiss.
Sour and moldy though she might smell,
we pretended we loved it well.
So went the life in days gone by
so long as you were just small fry.
Now children pose for selfies and diss
the thought of an old lady’s kiss.
They refuse to run through traces.
Don’t allow spit-scrubbed-at faces.
Skirts go unstarched, hair goes uncurled
now that children rule the world!
Fry is the WP prompt today.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
True…that is the real situation….
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My mom was very modern. She didn’t curl and several times trimmed my bangs with a pinking shears. Very unmotherly!
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I’m surprised pinking shear cuts haven’t become the style at any point..
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So true — and I love the last line!
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Well done
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Thanks, bookish one.
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Oh yes! The licked finger to remove the traces of ice cream from childish cheeks!
What a pity that when the pendulum swings, it always swings too far. Nobody benefits from kids running amok, least of all the kids.
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Lovely poem but doubt that children will ever rule the world … sure some are spoilt with no rules but others are very vulnerable and too often abused
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And some are actually the age of adults but still children!
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Yes nice to stay curious but sad not to mature
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Lots of little memories in this cute poem.
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Yes those were the good old days, and we all turned out perfect, so why did things change.
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