Homegrown

Children are mouthy plants.
We turn to cans their cant’s.
We tell them true; all what to do.
Then, they add their own slants.

All the generations;
From all far-flung nations…
They know these games; we’re all the same.
Time’s human undulations.

Renew, raise & reject.
Rinse, repeat & eject.
The young get old with stories told;
Inclusion not neglect.

Stack the family plot;
Immobile in its lot.
The oldest, there, no longer fair.
Tradition’s all they’ve got.

The end comes for us all.
Just hope for broken fall.
That on the way; a tidy lay…
would sweetly homeward call.