i was scarcely seven! i remember
my father, a soldier, a thunder
chasing a burglar sneaking to thieve
chicken in middle of moon lit night
in that unlit rural village
the following morning others strutted
my father’s foolhardiness
as i chanted his courage
and when my daughter was seven
the same drama unfolded, demanding
my heroic act! but miles away
in this excessively lit hamlet
and i, a frightened chicken, woke my wife
to let the crook know occupants awake
to switch on security lights; others beamed
my wisdom as i cogitated my cowardliness
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