Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “ I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “ I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “ So do I”
“But worst of all,” said the boy “ it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man