Playing House

“You be the Daddy,

I’ll be the Mommy,”

A teary glance,

A smile and a ring,

And two former children

Are applauded into the future,

Playing Life like Playing House.

In their hands their Rites

of Passage – the ring

and a Roll of paper:

bought at a high price

of Wealth and Time,

Years of their life dedicated

to one page of tree pulp,

Still unframed, guaranteeing no

more than an affirmative check

in a box, acknowledging completion.

Curmudgeons above sniff and scoff,

Holding their keys to success

just out of reach,

leaving the couple pretending

to know what they are doing,

where they are going,

And who they should be,

While the Experience Elite,

The Venerable Generation,

Exude expectations expecting

their advice to exonerate them

for their failure in parenting – 

Having failed their children,

Dooming an entire generation,

Leading them to believe

They can Play Life

Like they played House.