There once was an old man,
Who's moxy was quite lost,
He ran an old toy booth,
On a strip of many shops.
He worked there all day,
And closed up for the night,
He lived in a sad routine,
With no smile in sight.
One day a young, but clever boy,
Without realising,
Dredged up his haunted past,
This caused him much grief,
And utter anger to last.
He went home to his wife,
To tell of his despair,
And retreat back to his routine,
As if he didn't care.
So as the morning's sun arose,
He opened his store,
And sat in his stool,
Thinking about the past – more and more.
Now this young boy,
Determined him be,
Continued to pester,
And beg and plead.
You see this boy's father,
Unfortunately deceased,
Had a connection to this old man,
That he had to release.
He had to know why,
There was a connection,
Just in case,
It revealed a powerful and relevant message.
So he persisted and bothered,
And searched for endless amount of time,
In hope of finding something,
That was quite clandestine.
And one day after looking,
Through a numerous amount of books,
He found something rather interesting,
In a small and hidden nook.
The old man wasn't just a toy booth owner,
He was in fact a movie extraordinaire,
A man highly loved,
In the cinematic air.
But something was not right,
With the description that he read,
One major detail was entirely off,
You see – it said he was dead.
But the boy knew this was wrong,
He saw him quite regularly,
He wasn't dead at all,
The book had spoken wrongly.
So the boy continued searching,
For the missing piece of the puzzle,
To finally complete this story,
And for once not be so troubled.
The boy finally found,
The reason for the apparent death,
But it wasn't a happy story,
That the old man wanted to share.
You see, he felt he wasn't worthy,
He felt he was done,
He felt his talent had run dry,
And that he would never be loved.
So he faked his death,
Said he died at war,
And hid behind a toy booth,
He hoped he'd be – forever more.
However – all he needed was the reassurance,
That he was still loved,
That he wasn't a talent-less man,
That his gifts were sent from high above.
So the boy reassured him,
He is not forgotten – but in fact a loved soul,
He is indeed quite special,
A much loved whole.
In hearing this – the old man rose,
And smiled as he said,
I feel the utmost happiness,
Therefore – I declare I am not dead – I am the great George Mélies.
- Jasmine Barlas
[ This is a poetic adaption of the great movie Hugo which i love so dearly.]
