The Scar

The Scar
By
James Aubuchon

A Boy Scout swings his mighty ax
At helpless wood aims his attacks
Instead he hits the hand that holds
A slice of skin from it unfolds

The wound is shallow just a scratch
A bit of ointment and a patch
A day or two and all is well
That hurt was done is hard to tell

But as the boy becomes a man
The scar remains there on his hand
He thinks that it will go away
But can be seen there to this day

Sometimes the small unnoticed things
Cause us the deepest sufferings
If we knew how fragile we are
We'd be more careful not to scar