“You can be anything,” she said,
In a quiet moment before bed,
But the child could see some sadness there
And so asked, “Mom, what’s wrong?”
The mother paused with a distant stare,
As though she could see someone standing there;
And said, “You could be President, for sure,
Or the reason we find a famous cure;
You could be a parent, a star, a friend
Who is there through the joy or the bitter end.
But there is one ‘can’t’ for us all, you see:
You can’t be the person you used to be.”
The child looked up, and said, “If that’s true,
She must have been great to be better than you.”
