Being Wise

The world was dark, the moon high in the sky,
But no-one saw the U.F.O. fly by.
The house was silent, everything was still,
But no-one heard the scratching of her quill.
No-one saw those strange events,
An out of this world experience,
Apart from the writer, sat so still
Creating many words with the tip of her quill.
‘Strange events’ was what she was writing,
‘Strange events frighten
Those who are unimaginative and don’t use their minds,
Those who are dumb and leave behind
Their childhood games and fun.’
But that night, something did happen to the writer and her lies:
She was dragged from her bed, and as she sat up, rubbing her eyes,
The teacher spoke,
(An old looking bloke),
‘Strange events, will frighten grown ups or children full of fun.
It is up to them what they will become.
They could be a child, be frightened, but have fun,
Or the child that cries, and calls for their mum.
Both children are children, they are not dumb
They use their minds.’

She refused to admit that she was wrong, she had to be right,
So the writer was abducted that very night,
By the U.F.O. that had flown through the sky,
The one that nobody had seen go by.
She was never seen again, she never saw the light,
She refused to be wrong, she had to be right.

The moral of this story, don’t tell lies
Even if you’re trying to be wise.
Make it truthful, make it fair,
Remember that writer, so full of care,
Never seen again because of her lies.
You don’t have to be stubborn, you don’t have to be wise.