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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2327553
Measure of a person
Jake thought he'd licked it, but at the start
Of his days at the new school, it hurt his heart
When the big kids taunted him for being short.
But as he walked home, he thought he heard
His mother's clear, undeniable words:
“The measure of a person is not his height,
“But how he chooses to live his life.”

As he approached his Grandpa's little grocery store,
He was shocked to see, fallen against the door,
The very classmate who'd taunted him before.
“Let me help you”, he said, reaching out his hand.

“I was late, I was rushing.” The boy could barely stand.

Jake helped him in, got a chair and a drink,
And the First Aid Kit, didn't have to think.
But his Grandpa pulled him aside to say,
“Your mother would have loved to see this day.
“That's Miz O'Toole's grandson - and he's the one?”

Jake nodded. “Well, you just proved it, Jake my son:
“The measure of a person is not his height,
“But how he chooses to live his life.”






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