The Immorality And Immortality Of Youth Poem by Claudia Fitzgerald

Flippant, flippancy, flippin' film
that one,
we're supposed to cry.
But i nipped to the loo half-way through
and while their world was about to shatter,
I was having a natter
with myself
So I sit, docile in front of the TV.

As I said, it'll never happen to me.

Serious, stern, solemn:
The children's chants echo in my ears,
growing louder.
Yet they're soft,
showing me love, peace, joy, hope, forgiveness.
But what do I sing back to them?
The jingle of change in my pocket,
money to spend.
Or the tears of the guilty,
too wealthy to share.
Or the slap of hypocrisy
that we should not be willing to bear.
So do they forgive me?
'How can they ever forgive me? '

Finding the balance of guilt and pride,
tough work for a Saturday afternoon.