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THE BOY WHO WISHED WOOD

“How I wish that I could be a wooden boy,”
The real boy chided out in discontent
For his face was a face you would resent.

He wants to be wooden, whom could he ever disagree
For wood could be carved to a perfect degree,
Unlike a face that was as deformed as it could be.

“I could carve out my face from perfect pine,
I could carve my face to anyone I want,
I could be anyone I wish, anyone it be,
Then I will show them how perfect I am.”

And in some mysterious glare,
A fairy sprung out into the air
Granting his wish from his hearts desire,
Only to die, burning in a fire.

And that’s the end of our meager tale
When the little boy turned into a wooded male
He carved his face as perfect as it could be
A sculpture as great as any eye could see.

But… In one faithful summer day…
Little Woody was out to play,
The sun became hotter but his skin was wood,
All the villagers warned him, but there he stood…

Poor, little Woody… he died in pain.
But the fairy, in pity, changed the wish again,
Only to turn back into a little charred remain.

May his soul remain in peace…
As little Woody lies in rest.


PARKER

“You are perfect. You only need to learn how to be better to realize that.”